The Dragonblood Saga II: Madness Rising
by ForTalosandtheEmpire
Summary: When a mysterious Gate opens a year after the Crisis ends, Mara Fides is drawn into a world of madness and forced to face an impossible challenge: work for a god she hates to save his realm from its imminent destruction. As blackmail and betrayal force her hand at every turn, saving something she despises will require Mara to make the ultimate sacrifice. Sequel to Honor Bound.
1. Chapter 1: Threshold

**Rating: Rated T for violence, dark themes, and some language.**

**Disclaimer: Oblivion is the property of Bethesda Game Studios.**

**To better understand the events of this story, please read _The Dragonblood Saga I: __Honor Bound_ first. ****This story has been edited from its original version.**

* * *

"Open your eyes, darling."

"No."

Martin's arms tightened around me and I struggled to escape from them. I wasn't going to fall for it again.

"Mara, please," he whispered. The pain in his voice was evident.

I shook my head and began my all-too-familiar mantra. "You're not here. I'm just dreaming. You're not here…"

"But I _am _here."

"You're lying," I insisted. "You're not real."

"You were just dreaming before. It was a nightmare, Mara. Everything's fine. We're both safe." I wanted so badly to believe his words as he gently stroked my hair. Could it be possible? Could I have just dreamed…?

I opened my eyes and hastily squeezed them shut again to block the flow of angry tears. There was nothing there but my empty room. Another dream of him, that's all it had been. Gods, when would it end? It was just over a year after his death, a year of having the same dream night after night. Why couldn't I just move on? _Why couldn't I just let him go?_

When I thought I was past breaking down, for the moment at least, I climbed out of my bed. Outside the house, I heard the chapel bells ring. I glanced out the window. Anvil's morning bustle had already begun. I could hear their faint voices through the glass panes.

Benirus manor was where I'd ended up after leaving the Imperial City. It was a nice enough house once I got rid of the resident lich, if a bit grand for my tastes, and its dark past kept the locals from nosing about too much. Neither Ocato nor the Blades had found my hiding place, and I preferred to keep it that way. It was a bit cold, the shadows were usually a bit long, and the silence was all but deafening… but what could I do? I couldn't go back. Not after everything that happened.

I walked over to my dresser and pulled on my clothes slowly and deliberately, taking deep steadying breaths. Every morning I woke up, it got a little bit easier. I wasn't sure if it was because I was recovering, or if it was because I was getting more and more numb. I was worried it was the latter. Grabbing the leather tie off the dresser from its place next to my set of elven knives, I pulled my hair back into its usual ponytail.

I trudged out of the house, the soles of my boots thumping against the cobbles of the street, and walked toward the smith. I was running low on arrows, and that was _never_ a risk I was willing to take. Passerby gave me odd looks, but I ignored them and kept walking. People noticed me. They always did. The red hair and scowl tended to do that. It had been a hazard to my occupation once, years ago, and it seemed to be becoming one again. If they talked and the Elder Council finally tracked me down… My wounds were finally starting to heal. I didn't want to have them reopened like that.

Stepping up onto the porch, I pushed open the door. The room inside held its usual gloom. The glint of metal winked out of the shadows from the weapons and armor that hung on racks all around the room. The counter itself was crammed with knives, gauntlets, and an iron helmet resting on a stand. There was only one other patron inside, talking to the smith. The latter caught my eye and nodded. He knew what I was there for. I proceeded to the arrows, checking each to make sure it was satisfactory.

I was sighting down the shaft of the arrow I held when I heard the patron whisper, "Did you hear about that Gate near Bravil?"

I hesitated, lowering the arrow ever so slightly. Gate. _Gate?_ Resisting every urge to whirl around and demand he tell me everything, I pretended to go back to checking the arrow. I was supposed to be lying low. Better to wait and hope I'd find out what he was talking about.

"I haven't heard much," the smith replied, "but they're saying it's like no other Oblivion Gate anyone's ever seen. Nothing's coming out."

"How is it even possible?"

How indeed. My hands shook. Martin's sacrifice was supposed to have _stopped_ that from happening ever again. Had it failed? Or was it something different? There was only one way to find out.

I walked to the counter and tossed down some drakes for the arrows. The smith seemed surprised by the force, but still nodded to me before I walked out the door. I didn't stop. There wasn't any time left to waste. If there was a Gate open, I had to stop it before anyone got hurt.

* * *

The guards of Bravil should have been less shocked than they were when I showed up outside the city. Yes, I'd been missing for a year following the Crisis and left next to no trace of where I'd gone, but the Gate took precedence over hiding.

They directed me to a spot some distance out into Nibenay Bay, on a small island that had mysteriously appeared with the Gate. Residents of the city along with ships coming in were giving it a wide berth. As I'd heard before, no one had seen any signs of daedra coming from it in the weeks it had been open, and no one had gone in save for a handful of foolhardy adventurers.

And what was I?

I dragged the small boat I'd rowed out to it in up onto the bank and looked around at the tiny island. Moss covered _everything_. As I trudged up a narrow path cut into the rock, I passed clusters of violently purple mushrooms. Green vines that occasionally pulsed red lined the trail, along with trees with red-gold leaves, even though it was only late spring. Twisted stone pillars dotted the island. As the wind rushed through them, they emitted high, eerie whistling sounds that made me shiver.

At the center of the island, at the top of the hill, was a massive stone sculpture of three conjoined bearded male faces. The one at the center was laughing, and its mouth was filled with a swirling purple vortex of light. I paused, confused. Not only had the sky not changed to its cracked, red state, but it also wasn't the Gate I'd been expecting. There was no fire, no thunder. Just the hum of the portal. A Khajiit cowered nearby, mumbling and wringing her hands. Standing beside her was a man in Bravil Guard uniform.

Before I could speak, he shook his head and pointed to the Gate. "Can't talk now. That Gate has been making noises again. No telling what's coming out."

The Gate let out a horrible _shriek, _and a Dunmer staggered out. He was dressed in little more than tattered rags, and his hair was tangled wildly. He stumbled and fell to his knees.

"It's not right. Madness! Why? _Why?" _He shrieked, gripping his head in his hands."Everything is wrong! It can't be done!" The guard approached him, and the mer hastily drew a rusty dagger from his belt. "Stay away from me! I won't go back! You can't make me go back! I… I'll kill you all! You're all going to die!"

The Khajiit scrambled for cover, but it wasn't much of a fight. The guard cut the crazed mer down before he could do more than make a fumbled swipe at him with his knife. Once it was over, the guard sighed and cleaned off his sword.

"I'd stay back from that Gate if I were you," he told me quietly, shaking his head. "Nothing that's gone in has come out right."

I glanced up at the Gate and back down at the corpse before saying, "I'll keep that in mind. Where did this thing come from?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to. Those who've gone in have come back out… wrong." He shuddered a little at that. "I'm just here to warn folks to stay away."

It was odd, to say the least. "What happened to them, exactly?"

The Khajiit came crawling back at that moment, her amber eyes flitting around nervously.

"I've been bad," she muttered to herself. "I'll be punished. They'll all be punished…"

The guard gestured to her. "Look for yourself! Their brains are addled. Got no sense! Perfectly normal people went in there, and _this_ is what's come out."

I nodded and inched a little closer to the Gate, trying to study it. It was like no Gate I'd ever seen before, but that didn't mean anything. People were being hurt and that was a good enough reason for me to try and stop it.

I'd barely taken more than a few steps toward it when a voice roared from the portal, "_Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy! Useless mortal meat! Walkin' bag of dung!_"

"What in Talos's name–" I gasped.

"_… __A nice effort, though. A shame he's dead. These things happen,_" the voice continued with a short laugh. "_Bring me a champion! Rend the flesh of my foes! A mortal champion to wade through the entrails of my enemies! Really, do come in. It's lovely in the Isles right now. Perfect time for a visit._"

I narrowed my eyes and rolled up my sleeves. Whichever Daedric Prince it was, they were going to regret opening that Gate when I was done.

"I'm going in," I told the guard.

He just sighed at that, like he'd heard it too many times before to care. "It's your funeral. I'll be here to clean up the mess when you come back."

I nodded and strode toward the Gate, unsure of what I'd find when I came out on the other side.

As I stepped through, there was a flash of light and a loud shrieking sound. Whether of laughter or pain, I wasn't sure. When my eyes cleared I blinked in confusion. My memories of Oblivion were red and hot and bloody and dry... which was _not _what was in front of me. I stood in a small, dark room. The gray stone walls gave off a creeping feeling of claustrophobia. In the middle of the room sat a wooden desk. On it was a book and a small metal box with a wand that ticked back and forth between designs of a happy and an angry face. A small, weedy man dressed in black and red sat behind the desk, watching me haughtily.

"Please, sit," he said, gesturing to the seat across from him.

"I demand that you close this gate immediately," I snapped. "You have no right–"

His voice was calm as he cut me off and said, "I'd prefer if we kept the bloodshed to a minimum. So, please, just have a seat."

Scowling, I threw myself down into the chair and crossed my arms. The man leaned forward and placed his fingertips together.

"You are obviously here about the door. Good."

"No, it's not good," I snapped. "Which daedric realm does this lead to, exactly?"

"The Shivering Isles. Through the door behind me lies the realm of Sheogorath, Prince of Madness, Lord of the Never-There."

Great.

"Then who are you?" I asked.

"I am Haskill, Chamberlain to the Lord Sheogorath."

I drummed my fingers against my arm and nodded behind me to the humming portal. "Why did that Gate appear in Cyrodiil?"

"Because my Lord wills it to be so. It poses no danger to Mundus, I assure you. The recently-renewed covenant between the Aedra Akatosh and mortals has not been violated. It is a doorway, an invitation, nothing more. Perhaps you will accept it for what it is."

"That's not likely."

Haskill shrugged slightly. "Very well. Then you will not hear what my Lord has to say."

My eyes narrowed. "… What do you mean?"

"Only that He knows of you, Mara Fides. He was convinced that you would come."

I gaped at him. How… _why…_

"What does he _want_ from me?" I asked in a voice that was barely there.

"My Lord seeks a mortal to act as His Champion," he said, still as deadpan as ever. "Perhaps it is this. He only told me that he wishes to speak with you. As for His intent… to attempt to fathom it is a foolish endeavor. His will is his own; his reality follows suit."

I sighed and sunk lower in my chair. I was going from fighting daedra to _talking_ to them? What was this world coming to?

"What happens now?"

"You do as you will. You may leave the way you entered. Your life will be none the worse for your time spent here. Or, you may continue onward, through the door behind me."

The door in question was solid metal. At the top was an embossed design of a screaming face. It wasn't exactly promising.

I continued eyeing it warily as I asked, "And if I do go through?"

"Who is to say? There are always choices to be made. The Realm of Madness is no different in that regard. Your choices are your own. Enter or do not, but make your decision. I have other duties to which I must attend."

There didn't seem to be any good options. Go through and subject myself to the Mad God's whims, or leave the Gate alone to hurt more innocents? It was barely a choice, and I hated that.

"Fine. I'll do it," I grumbled.

"Good. My Lord will be most pleased." He got to his feet and nodded to me. "You'll want to pass through the Gates of Madness. Oh, and mind the Gatekeeper. He dislikes strangers to the realm. Enjoy your stay."

He opened the door and there was nothing but a black void beyond the threshold. He quickly stepped through and was gone. The door slammed shut behind him.

When I got up from the chair, the walls around me shook and rumbled. My heart pounded and I reached for my bow as my gaze flitted around. The walls suddenly exploded into a cloud of thousands upon thousands of black, fluttering shapes. _Butterflies_. As they flew away, their wings brightened into vibrant, jewel-like colors.

I was now standing outside in the night. The open sky above me was filled with red stars and far away spirals of golden light. There were no moons. Shaking my head, I drew my bow and headed down the path ahead. It was lined with broken columns and passed beneath the roots of massive, twisted mushroom trees. At least that much was familiar.

I jumped back as a blue-green wisp streaked past. The sound it made was high and clear as a bell. Not watching where I was going, I stumbled into a puddle in the middle of the path. I cursed and hit the stones in frustration. There was barely enough light to see when I _wasn't _underneath the canopy of roots. Why, by the Divines, did I think it was a good idea to go through there at _night?_

There was a snorting, grumbling sound. Then the sound of a sword being drawn and a roar. I jumped to my feet, drawing an arrow and firing an arrow blindly into the dark. A shriek tore from the shadows, then a thud and a splash. Water lapped over the toes of my boots. When another wisp, an orange one, rushed past, I saw a froglike creature lying dead at my feet. It held a sword that was almost more of a cleaver in one hand and a crude shield in the other. Its eyes stared up at me, dull and white.

I lowered my bow. This wasn't going to be easy.

* * *

When the sky began to lighten, it illuminated the tops of what looked like roofs in the distance. I squinted at them. Yes, they were roofs. There was a town ahead. It wasn't exactly what I'd expected from a daedric realm.

Built over rocky outcroppings and patchy areas of marshland, the town looked ancient. The roofs were missing slates and all the walls were dirty. Bridges and ladders linked them all together in the places where the ground turned into swamp. Still, it all looked very… human. Not daedric. Odd.

"I tried to warn them," a voice said from nearby.

I stopped. There were two shadowed figures ahead, standing under a building that arched over the street. The speaker was a Redguard in wildly purple hose holding a torch.

"They should have listened to me," he continued, shaking his head in a pitying way.

His companion, a dunmer whose hair was all done back in anxiously knotted braids, groaned loudly. "We'll be swimming in blood soon. Yuck."

As I cautiously approached, I saw the torchlight illuminate the Redguard's wicked sneer. "Let's go watch."

"Just as long as we don't catch any of their diseases. Adventurers always get strange diseases…"

"Come on, it'll be fun watching them get knocked around up there."

As they hurried off, I heard the Dunmer snap at him, "Just don't get any blood on me."

After a moment of hesitation, I followed. People from outside were getting themselves hurt. That couldn't be good.

The pair raced out of the small town and up a hill lined with crumbling stone steps. At the top, I could see the shadowy form of a giant wall. Then I heard the sounds of clashing metal and screams of pain. Through the gloom, I caught a glimpse of a hulking figure tearing an armored figure in half.

That was when the morning light finally filled the area, illuminating the thing as it roared in triumph. I stepped back, gasping in horror.


	2. Chapter 2: Fringe

The creature was over ten feet tall and encased in iron bands. It swung its massive arms, one of which was no more than an enormous sword, and took out another adventurer with a swipe that sent the man flying. Deep, horrible scars in twisted designs covered its fleshy body. I could see in places on its chest and limb another kind of scar, the kind that looked like it had been stitched together. Instead of a face, it had blank skin stretched over its grimacing skull.

"Dead," the Redguard said, clapping slowly at the violent display before him and shaking his head. "I warned them, didn't I?"

His Dunmer companion wrinkled his nose. "Yuck. Look at all the blood and gore. I'm getting out of here."

He walked back down the stairs, stepping nimbly aside as one of the combatants came pelting down past him to escape the creature.

I was too shocked to do anything except watch as it tore the last man in half. Then it swung its head around and roared as it rushed toward me. I hastily stumbled back down a few of the steps. It slammed to a halt at the top of the stairs and loomed over me. I'd have sworn it was staring at me, if it had had any eyes. Letting out an irritated grunt, it shook its head and lumbered back to stand before the dual gates set into the wall.

I heard a bark of laughter and glanced back to see the Redguard smirking at me.

"You must be new around here. I'm Shelden," he said, extending one of his dark hands to me. When I glared at him, he quickly withdrew it. "I've been here the longest. That's why I'm the mayor of Passwall. That, and I'm the best at being in charge. Welcome to my town!"

The hulking monster was certainly a _great_ welcome.

"What is that thing?" I said, nodding toward it.

"The Gatekeeper. As you'd expect from the name, he guards the Gates of Madness," he explained with a hint of disgust. "Don't get too close to him. He'll kill you, and it will leave a mess. Jayred Ice-Veins wants to kill the Gatekeeper. Sounds like suicide to me."

Looking back at the monster, I could certainly see why. "Why on earth would anyone want to go near that thing, let alone try to kill it?"

A slow grin spread across Shelden's face at that and he said to me, voice conspiratorial, "They say the keys to the Gates are sewn up in the Gatekeeper's body. Basically, that means you're not getting in. Not without taking him down first."

So that was what I had to do to get to Sheogorath? Fine. It wasn't the biggest monster I'd ever faced. Not by a long shot.

"Where is this man?"

His eyes widened. "So you want to die, too? Be my guest, but I'm not cleaning up after you. Jayred lives at the edge of town, in that direction." He pointed out over the buildings towards the swamp. I nodded sharply, and marched back down the stairs.

* * *

As Shelden said, Jayred Ice-Veins's house was nearly beyond the town's border. It was a small house, taller than it was wide, and built up on a massive root that jutted out over the swamp. I walked up the stairs and carefully knocked on the door, trying not to get splinters in my hands from the heavily-cracked wood. I was certain the only things holding it together were the iron bars nailed into it, but even then it was only just.

"It's unlocked," a deep voice called from somewhere within.

I pushed open the door, wincing slightly at the loud creaking noise it made, and stepped inside.

The first thing I noticed was the bones. Everywhere there were bones of every size: hanging from the walls, piled in the corners, resting on the table and the shelves. The empty sockets where the skulls' eyes should have been seemed to follow me as I walked past.

The voice I'd heard belonged to a burly Nord dressed all in fur. Long braids hung limply around his face, and he stared at me with pale green eyes with a gaze that felt like it was boring into me.

"Are you Jayred Ice-Veins?" I asked him.

He nodded slowly, his gaze unbroken and unblinking. It made my skin crawl.

"Do you ever wonder why things look better without their skin on?" He asked after a short silence in a slow voice that seemed to creak and groan. "For instance, you can only really see the bones when you take them out. You can hear them better that way, too."

I cringed. The place was getting worse the longer I stayed.

"I came because I heard you want the Gatekeeper dead," I told him.

"I _need _him dead!" He barked. "His bones are calling to me. And you want him dead, too?"

"Yes."

He eyed me with interest at that. "If you're any good with a lockpick, we can help each other out. We can get into the Gardens of Flesh and Bone."

The name did not instill much confidence. "Why would we need to do that?"

"They say the Gatekeeper's magic." He shook his head in a slow, almost mesmerizing way. "I don't believe in magic, but I _do _believe in bones. And the best way to kill something is with the bones of its own. I've seen the bones of a dead Gatekeeper in the courtyard of the Gardens. The door's locked though. You'll pick the lock, and I'll collect the bones. Then I'll make some arrows and we'll kill the Gatekeeper. Sound good?"

Arrows I could handle. Picking locks I could handle. I nodded.

"You open the door. I'll kill things. Let's go."

He led me out of the house, back through town, and up a hill along the wall opposite the way I'd gone earlier. At the end was a gate set into the stone. It was rusty and covered with spider webs. Beyond it I could see a large, abandoned courtyard lined with pillars and sculptures of twisted, snarling creatures I assumed were some kind of daedra. There was also a massive skeleton lying at the very center. That must have been what he was talking about. It certainly _looked _like the thing that attacked the adventurers.

"Hurry!" He insisted. "Pick that lock open. I can hear them in there!"

"All right, all right. Hold on." I knelt down in front of the lock. It wasn't difficult. Clearly no one in the town had _any _kind of skill… that, or any interest in the "gardens." I didn't blame them. The place gave me chills.

The lock _clicked_ and I had to shove the gates to get them open. The loud creaking sound of the metal echoed around the courtyard. When it faded out, it was replaced with a clattering, shrieking sound. Piles of bones lying here and there around the space rose into horrible, shambling creatures. Jayred shot one down, and it exploded into thousands of fragments of bone. I dodged the flying pieces as I drew my own bow. I fired at another of the creatures and it shattered as well. Soon we were surrounded by nothing more than a number of tiny, sharp, white chips. Jayred clomped over to the Gatekeeper skeleton and knelt down beside it.

"Here we are," he crooned. "From these bones I can make some arrows."

"And when will they be ready?" I asked him.

The Nord tilted his head to the side, as if thinking hard. Or listening to something. "Find me in a few hours. We'll kill the Gatekeeper."

I nodded sharply and left the Gardens, walking back down to settle on top of one of the rock outcroppings overlooking Passwall. Pulling my knees up into my chest, I watched the town's residents go about their daily business with a wary gaze. The Deadlands had given off the feeling of danger and death no matter where you went. The Shivering Isles didn't have that. It just felt… wrong. It was as if something, or someone, was watching me at all times. I hated that. At least Dagon's realm had the decency to let you _know _it would kill you. It was like the Isles were waiting for something with baited breath. The opportune moment to strike? Probably.

There was no sun, just the strange sky above me getting brighter. I had no way to tell how long I'd been out there. I kept my eye on Jayred's house, waiting for him to make an appearance. What must have been hours passed before I saw him step out the door. I climbed down from my perch and picked my way through the rocks and the swamp to reach him.

He nodded when I approached and said, tossing me a bundle, "The arrows are ready. Here are some for you, and I'll keep some. Let's go kill the Gatekeeper. We might die, but there's worse things."

I couldn't argue with that.

I followed him back up to the Gates. The Gatekeeper was waiting between the two doorways. It didn't move as we crept forward, and I prayed that we wouldn't be noticed.

Pointing to its other side, I indicated that we should split up and flank the creature. Jayred nodded and he slunk around one side while I went on the other. I was careful to hang back, hugging the edges of the yard and staying as far out of reach of the thing as I possibly could. I glanced over to see how my fellow hunter was doing, and my pulse quickened sharply when I noticed how much closer he was to it than I was. And he was too far away from me to give him any kind of warning.

That was when the Gatekeeper's head turned sharply toward him. It roared, the sound muffled by the skin covering its mouth, and grabbed Ice-Veins. I heard a loud, sickening _crack_ as it squeezed the man in its massive fist. It let his body fall, his blood dripping onto the gray stones that paved the area. I kept as still as I could, barely breathing. Reaching over my shoulder, I carefully slid one of the bone arrows from my quiver and nocked it on my bowstring. The monster turned even at that slight sound. It charged at me, and I instinctively fired and jumped aside to avoid being snatched up like Jayred had.

There was a horrible, twisted gurgling sound and a _boom _as it fell back, hitting the ground. It was dead, my arrow lodged underneath its chin.

Walking over to the massive corpse, I drew my knife with a sigh. Shelden had said the keys were sewn _into _the body, hadn't he? Wrinkling my nose and trying not to gag at the foul smell, I cut along one of the stitches and peeled open the Gatekeeper's chest. Sure enough, there were two keys sewn in, side-by-side. One was embossed with faint pink designs in twisting patterns, while the other was edged in places with rough black spikes. I cut them out and got to my feet.

"So, you've managed to kill the Gatekeeper. Pity," a bored voice said from behind me.

I turned, clutching the keys in my fist, to see Haskill watching me with obvious disinterested. How he'd managed to sneak up behind me, I had no idea.

"Well," he continued in his monotone, "you'll now be able to enter the Realm proper. You'll notice there are two doors. One leads to the land of Mania, the other to Dementia. Enter through either one. The lands are quite distinct, but both are Sheogorath's domain."

I looked over at them, my gaze flitting back and forth between them. From the outside, at least, they both looked the same. "What _is _the difference?"

He pointed to the door on the left. "The lands of Mania are bright, vibrant, and full of color. You'll find its inhabitants reflect the land itself. Take care, though. While the citizens and creatures of Mania are colorful, they can often be quite deadly."

"And Dementia?" I asked, nodding toward the other door.

"The lands of Dementia reflect the darker side of its residents." He paused and looked me over critically. "I'm sure they'll welcome one such as you with open arms."

I glanced back at the two doorways. Well, neither one sounded particularly appealing to me at all. I would still have to decide on one in the end, however. The question was which one?

"You'll want to seek out the Lord Sheogorath," Haskill told me. "He does indeed have plans for you. Try not to disappoint him." With a nod, he vanished in a thick cloud of black and purple smoke. I coughed and wrinkled my nose, waving my hand to disperse the vapors.

Now, there was a choice to be made. I stared at the two keys still clenched in my fist. In the end, was it really a difficult choice? Always fight the enemy you can see. Carefully picking my way around the cracked and weathered bones of the Gatekeeper's old victims, I trudged up the stairs toward the door leading to Dementia.

The door itself was an impossibly black thing set deep into the wall. I fitted the key into the lock and pushed the door open. There was another short tunnel on the other side. Steeling myself, I took a few steps forward. Behind me the door slammed shut, making me flinch and look back warily. The sound echoed through the tunnel and faded slowly to silence.

At the end of the tunnel was a path lined with rocky outcroppings that were overwhelmed with tangled, sickly-green vines. On either side were tall, twisted trees. In the distance I heard strange shrieking and roaring sounds. I shivered and quietly drew an arrow. _That_ was what I was expecting from a realm of Oblivion. As I slowly made my way down the road rain began to fall. My hood kept the droplets of water away from my face and my eyes clear.

For a long time, there was nothing more than those distant roars and the sound of the rain falling around me. That was when I heard a nearby growl, slow and deep. I stopped and slowly looked up at the outcropping to my left. At first I saw nothing. Then one of the trees moved, crawling forward with gnarled, branched hands. It turned its head, opening one horribly humanoid eye in what I assumed must be its head to stare at me. With the slow, deliberate movements of a stalking predator, it climbed down the rocky face. I drew back an arrow and fired at it. The arrow stuck, but the monster didn't seem to notice. It just kept coming. I took a step back, preparing to run. How fast could it move? Would I be able to get somewhere more protected before it overtook me? It reached the bottom. Rearing up, it let out a horrifying shriek that cut through the air.

An arrow buried itself deep in the creature's eye, an arrow that was decidedly _not _one of mine. The tree monster screamed and clawed futilely at it in an attempt to remove it. There was the sound of footsteps running up the path toward us, and three women appeared, drawing inky black swords. All three of them were dressed in impractical-looking black and iridescent-green armor, open in strange places to reveal their vibrant purple skin. They cut mercilessly into the creature, slashing deep cuts in its bark. Sap oozed heavily from the gashes. Then one of the women swung her sword at its neck, taking its head off with a dull _thunk._

The body had barely crumpled to the ground when she turned to me, her vivid silvery-blue eyes staring at me from beneath the harsh outline of her helmet.

"Madgod's blessings," she said.

I was still too wary to lower my bow. Regardless of whether or not they had just saved my life, I was still in a Daedric Realm, and I wasn't about to take any risks I could avoid.

"Who are you?" I asked sharply.

Her face remained impassive as she told me, "We are the Mazken. Our duty is to ensure the demented remain orderly and respectful of our Lord Sheogorath. We have been tasked with escorting you safely to New Sheoth. Our Lord has been expecting you, Mara Fides."

I slowly lowered my bow. So they presented themselves as allies. That was good, for the moment.

"Fine," I said. "Take me to him."

* * *

New Sheoth was built on the top of a large hill, its walls rising in an imposing way at the very top of the cliff face. There were roaring waterfalls to the right of the path as we walked up to the city gate, sending cold spray into the air. I shivered and drew my cloak tighter around myself.

The guards who had escorted me through Dementia left at the city gate and were replaced by a new entourage. I didn't like it, but there was nothing I could do to refuse as they led me through the gate and into the city.

The first thing I saw was an enormous statue of a man. He sat on a throne wrapped in hissing snakes. Green-flamed torches encircled it, casting unsettling light and shadows on the dark stone. As we passed it by and entered the city proper, I took in my surroundings with a wary gaze.

The buildings were all tall and elegant, with arched stained-glass windows, but the whole place was horribly derelict. The glass panes were streaked with dark grime. Most of the roofs were collapsing in places and moss grew in thick patches on the walls. Massive roots broke through the pavement and curled through some of the walls. The streets were filled with sewage, and boards had been put in place over the patches so that you didn't step in it. I covered my nose with my hand to try to block out the awful smell that nearly made my stomach turn. As we walked past, I thought I saw some rotting bones in the gutter that looked suspiciously humanoid. I was glad when the Mazken hurried me through and up a set of stairs that led up wall.

This new part of the city was far different. It was a garden leading to an enormous palace made of cold, white marble. It had vaulting arches, tall windows, and iron spikes set on its roofs. The pathway leading to the front door was lined with torches bearing red flames on the left and green flames on the right. In places the lawn was torn up with clusters of sharp gray crystals. I could hear them humming softly as we passed. Odd.

These guards too left me at the door to the palace, and I entered alone.

Inside was a long hall. A red and green carpet running down the center of the room, surrounded on either side by burbling fountains. At the other end of the hall was a tree that was covered in glowing blue and gold mushrooms. A man sat in the throne set in its base. His hair and carefully trimmed beard were silver-white, his suit was royal purple and sickly green. He stood as I approached and clapped slowly, the sound echoing up into the ceiling in an almost mocking way. Haskill stood off to the side, looking as impassive as usual.

"Well look who's here!" The man in the suit said, laughing. "I'm so happy; I could just tear out your intestines and strangle you with them! I suppose an introduction is in order." He made a little bow. "I'm Sheogorath, Prince of Madness. And other things. You've probably figured that out by now. Let's hope so. Or else we're in real trouble… and _out _come the intestines!"


	3. Chapter 3: Madness

I frowned, tensing at the threat, but Sheogorath just waved it off.

"But, perhaps now's not the time," he said ruefully. "You've made it this far. Take this trinket of mine. Perhaps it will serve you well. Or look lovely on your corpse."

He rummaged in his pocket for a moment and pulled out a small amulet. One side was gold and depicted half of a grinning face. The other was silver and the face was snarling. It swung back and forth slightly as he held it out to me by its chain.

"I didn't come here for… gifts," I told him, my frown deepening. "What do you want from me?"

He lowered the pendant slightly as he told me. "I've been waiting for you, or someone like you, or someone other than you for some time. Everyone saw how you took Dagon down a few pegs. Really quite impressive. I'd say he won't try any more schemes for a few millennia, at least. In any case, I need a Champion, and _you've _got the job. Time to save the Realm! Rescue the damsel! Slay the Beast!" His eyes, bright gold with cat-like slits for pupils, flashed as he added, "Or die trying. Your help is required."

"Forget it," I snapped. "I won't help you."

His eyes narrowed and he asked, "Is that so?"

"Yes. I don't owe you _anything._"

"Oh, but I think you'll find it's not quite that simple, my dear. You see, I have something in my possession that I think you'll find… most interesting."

"And what would that be?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

The corner of his mouth curled into a cold sneer. "No, no, no. I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. Leave if you wish, but I would stop in Fellmore on your way out of the Isles if I were you."

I gave the Daedric Prince a glare as I turned away and marched right out of the palace.

* * *

I'd intended to leave, to just go back through the town of Passwall and out the portal that would return me to Nirn. But, damn it, what Sheogorath had said twisted itself so tightly around my mind that I couldn't help but wonder what he'd meant. Something I'd find interesting. What in Talos's name did he have hidden away in that town that would interest _me?_

My curiosity was too much for me to resist in the end. When I reached the road that led to the village he had mentioned, winding through those gnarled and shadowed roots, I took it against my better judgment.

Fellmore was built at the edge of a swamp. It was a tiny village, not much more than a handful of old houses with small gardens beside them. The clearing it was nestled into was surrounded by giant mushrooms that towered over the buildings. Just seeing them gave me an unsettling sense of familiarity. Even though I hadn't seen Vvardenfell in seven years, it was still so much like going back home. The feeling sent shivers down my spine.

That was when I saw it.

_It_ was a small house, with a simple thatched roof and pale plastered walls. The doors and shutters were painted a faded shade of brownish-green. I _knew_ that house. I didn't realize that I'd stopped walking until suddenly I was running toward it. My heart pounded so hard that I vaguely wondered if it would burst. My head spun. How was that even possible? It was a trick. A dream. Anything. _It couldn't be real._

Grabbing the worn iron handle, I shoved the front door open. I barely saw the frayed yellow and red rug that sat in the middle of the room or the Nordic, knotted designs on the beams overhead. All I could focus on was the woman by the fire. Long dark brown hair tumbled loosely over her shoulders and down her back. She brushed off her olive-toned hands on her light blue skirt, humming lightly to herself. I slumped heavily against the door, too shocked to even breathe.

She turned quickly at the sound and her gray eyes fixed on mine. That was when I knew that it was no trick. That gaze was too real, too familiar. Never mind that she was no different than she had been the last time I'd seen her, and that had been fifteen years earlier.

But, unlike last time, the corners of her gentle mouth turned up in a quiet sort of smile.

"Hello my dear," she said in her soft, smooth voice, "can I help you?"

"Don't… don't you recognize me?" I asked in a strangled voice.

Her dark brows lowered in confusion. Then she shook her head. I let go of the door and slowly walked toward her. Surely she should still know it was me. Surely she wouldn't forget…

I stopped in front of her. Why was she like this? The last time I'd seen my mother, she'd barely had the will to stand, let alone _smile_. Something was very, very wrong.

"Ma," I said, "it's me. It's Mara."

There was flicker of something in her eyes, maybe recognition, which quickly vanished. She shook her head again.

"I don't–"

"Mara, your _daughter!_" I shouted at her as anguished tears stung my cheeks. "The girl who ran away from home when you needed her most! Me! _How could you forget me?_"

She blinked several times, startled, and the flicker of recognition, yes _recognition,_ returned. That time it stayed, settling into her eyes as a look of horror dawned on her face.

"_Mara?_" She gasped. "Oh, my baby. My little girl."

I let out a choked sob and stumbled forward a few steps to hug her. Every inch of my body was shaking as I leaned against her. She stroked my hair and I buried my face in her shoulder.

It wasn't long before she pulled away, holding onto my shoulders and looking right into my eyes. A profound and terrible kind of fear was etched into her features and she looked far older in that moment than I'd ever seen her to be before.

"You have to get out of this place," she said in a rush. "It will _kill_ you."

"I can't just leave you here!" I insisted.

"It's too late for me. He has me and he'll never let me go. Please, sweetheart, you have to leave while you still can. Promise me you will."

I shook my head frantically. "Ma, I can't!"

"_Promise me, Mara!_" She cried.

I gasped and recoiled, shocked at the force of the desperation in her words. Her grip abruptly loosened on my shoulders, her arms falling back to rest by her sides. Her expression faded. She blinked and confusion once again appeared in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, did you need something?" She asked in a level tone.

I staggered backward, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. She was gone again. Just like that.

I turned and ran out of the house, away from the woman who was my mother. My hand still clenched tightly onto the door handle when I slammed it behind me, the cold metal digging into my palm. I couldn't just _leave_ her there. Not again. Not when she clearly still needed me so badly. I leaned my head back against the door and tried to blink away the tears that welled up once more in my eyes. It didn't work. I sank to the ground and clutched my face in my hands.

That was what he'd wanted. That was what he'd had planned all along. He knew I wouldn't be able to just abandon her to her fate, not even to escape the Isles. Damn him. _Damn him!_

* * *

Sheogorath was wearing a thoroughly satisfied smirk when I returned to his palace. He sat on his throne, leaning forward against a black and gold cane as he watched me approach.

"You found the distressing damsel, I see," he said in a smug voice.

I stood before the throne, glaring at him. My hands clenched into fists and I snarled, "Let my mother go."

"That's not how this game works," he said, making an impatient sound. "You give me what I want, and I'll give you want you want. Fair's fair."

When he held out that gods-forsaken pendant again, I hesitated for a moment before snatching it from his grip and putting it around my neck. Just wearing it gave me a sickening feeling, but I managed to resist the urge to rip it off and throw it as far away as I could. Barely.

"How did you even get her?" I asked, my words hissing out through clenched teeth.

"She was already enough in my domain that it was quite easy, actually. You, my dear Fides, were the subject of interest for some time before good old Dagon decided to make his move. What you would do was never quite clear. However, I thought it best to have something of yours to bargain with in case I had need of you. And here we are."

I forced myself to take a deep breath.

"Now, onto business." He stood and started pacing around the throne room as he spoke. "A change is coming. Everything changes. Even Daedric Princes. _Especially _Daedric Princes. Daedra are the embodiment of change. Change and permanency. I'm no different, except in the ways that I am."

He banged his cane against the floor and I jumped.

"The Greymarch is coming," he said, "and you're going to stop it."

"Well, I can't stop it if I don't know what "it" is," I snapped.

He waved it off. "The details aren't important, at least not right now. Eternity is on a rather right deadline. We'll get back to that later."

"So what now?"

"Now? You run an errand for me. An important one. Of course, anything I tell you to do is important. My realm, my rules." He drummed his fingers against his cane and went on, "You're going to Xedilian, one of my favorite spots in the Isles. It's a little place I use to take care of… _unwanted_ visitors. And some are more unwanted than others. The Gatekeeper takes care of most of the unwanted, but he's dead. We'll have to remedy that soon, as well."

I didn't particularly like the sound of that.

"Anyway, there are those that have other ways into my Realm, and they're on the move. We don't want them here. Trust me. So you're going to get Xedilian up and running. Here's a little book to tell you how, and the Attenuator of Judgment. You'll need that too." He shoved a book and a strange, pronged, metal instrument into my hands. "Of course, you can always get more details from Haskill. He's a detail-oriented type of person. A big help. And a snappy dresser! Now, get going before I change my mind. Or my mind changes me."


	4. Chapter 4: Trap

Haskill was quick enough to usher me out of the palace as well. Behind me I could hear Sheogorath humming some kind of off-key tune to himself. At the door the Chamberlain handed me a map, which I had some difficulty holding along with the book and the… attenuator. Whatever that was.

"So, Xedilian," I began slowly, shifting the items until I could open the book.

"Yes, quite an amazing place really," the steward told me absently. "Wonderful for relieving one's tension as you watch those troublesome adventurers suffer… no offence."

I flipped through the pages with a frown. It all seemed like technical gibberish to me. "How does one go about reactivating this place?"

"Ah… silly me. The book has no pictures. Can't really expect you to read that, now can I?" He ignored the glare I shot him and continued, "To reactivate Xedilian for my Lord's pleasure, you'll need to find three Focus Crystals and return them to their resting place. Each crystal has a matching receptacle called a Judgment Nexus. Even _you_ can't miss them. Without the crystals in place, the Resonator of Judgment, Xedilian's power source, cannot be restored. You have the Attenuator, the Manual, and a map. I'm certainly not going to carry you there, so I'd suggest you get to it. Place one foot in front of the other… you know how it goes."

And, with that, he practically shoved me out the palace doors.

* * *

The entrance to Xedilian was built into the side of a hill, accessible by a bridge that crossed the steep ravine before it. I quickly checked the map. That had to be the place. Quickly storing it, I pulled out the book to check it again.

_On the subject of Xedilian's construction, Lord Sheogorath, let me begin by extending the warmest regards to you and your noble being. The construction was completed on time and well under budget as–_

I groaned and flipped through a few more pages.

_The heart of Xedilian is its power source, the Resonator of Judgment. By tuning this huge chunk of crystal with the Attenuator of Judgment (a "tuning fork" of sorts), we have released a wave of siren-like sound that will draw anyone from outside the Isles. Three Focus Crystals have been placed throughout the site to assist in keeping this wave of sound even and stable. This site will not function without all three Focus Crystals running in unison, so it's important to keep them clean and safe on their "cradles" (which I have called their "Judgment Nexus"). The Focus Crystals are irreplaceable at this time, so take proper precautions guarding the site when not in use._

Right. I stuffed it back into my bag and pushed open the ancient door. The ruin inside was cold, damp, and dark. A gate on the other side of the antechamber blocked my way to the passage beyond. Cautiously, I pressed a small button beside it. The gate slid up into the ceiling. Drawing my bow and nocking an arrow in preparation, I crept forward.

There were no torches in the chambers beyond. The only light came from small, luminescent, blue-green mushrooms that grew from the floor and the walls. Broken columns lined the hall. Hearing a low growl, I hid behind one of the columns. I cautiously peered out from my hiding spot to see one of those frog-like creatures lumbering around in the shadows. Quietly drawing back my arrow, I fired, hitting it between the eyes. It hit the ground with a wet _thud. _I slipped forward, past the body.

Creeping down a flight of stairs, I saw more of the monsters. The biggest wielded some kind of staff with a gray crystal crudely fixed to the top. One of the focus crystals. I shot down the one with the staff. As it fell, the other two turned to me and brandished their weapons. One of my arrows took down the second, but I had to hastily dodge a blow sent my way by the one that was still alive. Spinning, I kicked out the back of its knee and sent it to the floor. Drawing back an arrow, I shot it through the base of its skull.

I grabbed the staff from where it had fallen. Taking hold of the focus crystal, I snapped it off from where it had been attached to the head of the staff with sinew and Divines-knew-what-else. There was a carved stone pillar nearby with claw-like protrusions on top that formed a kind of basin. Gingerly, I reached out to place the crystal inside. With a loud, crackling, humming sound, purple light flared from the basin. It connected to the crystal, keeping it hovering a few inches in the air.

One down, two to go.

I walked down the next hall, on the lookout for any more of the monsters. There was nothing ahead except another door. I pressed the button next to it, expecting it to open. Instead the floor gave way beneath me.

I plummeted, dropping my bow. Reaching out, I desperately sought something to break my fall. My hands finally caught some thick roots and I held on tight, my body slamming hard against the wall as I abruptly stopped. I sucked a harsh breath through my teeth. Arms shaking, feet scrabbling for purchase against the stones, I looked down. At the bottom of the pit below were sharp wooden spikes, as well as what looked like a tunnel. A way out? Good.

Carefully, I climbed down to the bottom and snatched up my bow from where it had fallen. There was indeed a tunnel leading further into the ruins. Wincing at the feel of bruises forming all over, I headed further in.

* * *

The dungeon's final room was a large, ruined chamber. Crumbling pillars lined the walls and chunks of rubble littered the floor. Peering around the corner, I saw a large mass of gray crystals that reached halfway to the vaulted ceiling. Between it and me another one of those toad-monsters. I descended the stairs leading into the chamber and quietly drew back an arrow. It was dead before it even knew I was there.

Carefully picking my way through the rubble, I approached the cluster of crystals. Pulling out the Attenuator, I looked between it and the crystals. As far as I could tell, I was supposed to hit them with it. Praying that it worked, I did.

A high-pitched, bell-like tone erupted from the crystals the second the Attenuator made contact. The biggest crystal spire broke away from the rest and floated into the air. Like the smaller focus crystals before, it hung suspended in purple light. A tingling, electric feeling came from it, making my skin crawl. A gate opened to my right, and I hastily stepped through it and onto the teleportation platform beyond.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing in an unfamiliar room. It still looked like the ruin, however, so I was certain I hadn't left. Before me stood a hooded, emaciated Dunmer. His grin made me feel thoroughly uncomfortable.

"Finally, Lord Sheogorath has sent someone to assist me! But where are my manners? Must get into my professional tone…" He cleared his throat and began a long speech. "Welcome to Xedilian. I'm the dungeon caretaker, Kiliban Nyrandil. Xedilian is the ultimate test of mettle for the foolhardy adventurer that dares trespass into the Shivering Isles. What they don't know is that they're being drawn to their doom, courtesy of the Resonator of Judgment–"

"Enough," I snapped, cutting him off. "How do I get out of here?"

He seemed disappointed at that. "Yes, yes. I tend to ramble; you'll have to forgive me. Xedilian would normally have sent you back to the entrance when you stepped on the pad in the Resonator Chamber. Since you're up here, I can only surmise that adventurers are already entering the dungeon as we speak."

"And why do _I _have to deal with this?"

He grimaced. "I'm afraid until the adventurers are dealt with, Xedilian will keep you here. Even I can't will its doors to open. To put it bluntly, you're stuck here for the moment. No disrespect intended."

"Great. So what do I do now?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"The only thing we _can _do is let the adventurers complete a cycle through here. I'll be glad to help."

He beckoned to me, and I followed him to a small balcony overlooking a chamber below. Before me were two buttons. Kiliban gestured to them and said, "As the adventurers make their way through Xedilian's chambers, they will encounter choices that you make in these control platforms. All you need to do is decide what becomes of the adventurers. Will you drive them insane or will you pull the life from their bodies?"

"And how do I do that?" I asked, a feeling of trepidation creeping through me.

"Simple. Wait until the adventurers are in position, and then press a button." He beamed at that. "If they survived, they will proceed to the next chamber, and so on. It's really quite ingenious."

I looked warily at those two little buttons. "Just like that…"

"Just like that."

As if on schedule, three figures appeared at the other end of the chamber below. An orc in full armor, a Dunmer wielding a mage's staff, and a Breton with a bow. Even as high up as I was, I could still hear them clearly.

"… Now keep your weapons ready and watch your backs," the orc told his companions. "Do what I say, and we just might just get outta here alive."

A tiny gnarl crawled out from a grate in the middle of the room. The moment it did, the two buttons lit up, suddenly displaying glowing faces: one with an orange grin, the other with a blue sneer.

"What in Oblivion is that thing?" The orc laughed.

The Breton scoffed. "_This _is one of the "horrid guardians" of which the stories spoke?"

I hesitated, looking between the buttons. Slowly, I pressed the blue one.

"What a joke! Let's be rid of this thing and continue on our way."

"Wait just a moment," the Dunmer mage said, looking around warily. "What's that sound?"

Up from the grate erupted a horde of the gnarls, all of them swarming toward the adventurers. They overwhelmed the Breton in an instant, dragging him to the floor. I winced and looked away, but was unable to drown out the man's pained screams as the creatures tore into him. Once he was dead, the gnarls barely put up a fight against the other two. Their job was done.

"Damn it!" The orc roared. "Lewin deserved better than this and I'm responsible. Someone will pay dearly, I assure you."

"There's nothing to be done here. We must press on," the Dunmer insisted.

"You're doing quite well so far," Kiliban said, clapping me on the shoulder. I cringed. "Keep it up!"

The mer led me along a corridor to another overlook. The second chamber was dark, barely lit by the blue glowing mushrooms that grew from the walls. On one side of the chamber was a high platform, atop which sat a massive cage filled with crystals and gold. The two adventurers appeared and began climbing the stairs leading up to it.

"Look!" The orc let out a relieved laugh. "I told you! Treasure! Let's have at it, Syndelius." He reached the cage's door and growled in irritation. "Blast! The cage is locked."

"Grommok, be careful!" The Dunmer, Syndelius, warned him as he stared warily at the cage. "This looks too good to be true."

His companion snorted. "Let's see them stop me after I rip this gate from its hinges!"

When it lit up, I pressed the blue button.

Syndelius tried to push him aside, seeming to realize the danger, but it was too late. "Grommok! _No_–"

A massive explosion of fire erupted from the cage, knocking them both off platform. For a moment, everything was still. Then Grommok pushed himself up, groaning. Syndelius lay still on the floor several feet away. Seeing him, the orc stumbled over to the body of his companion.

"Sorry, Syndelius," he said quietly. "I don't know who built this nightmare, but if I get my hands on them…"

My stomach twisted. It was my fault. Death, treated like it was just a game. I tried to ignore Kiliban's words as he led me to the final overlook.

"Ah! The classic fire trap. Always a favorite, especially in the colder months."

I gritted my teeth, barely resisting the urge to knock his smug teeth in.

Corpses dangled from the ceiling of the last room and some were even bolted to the walls. Pools of thick, dark blood stained the floor. A large basin filled with eerie green fire sat in the center of the chamber. Grommok entered the room and I watched his progress, conflicted. The two buttons lit up and I stared at them.

"Steady, Grommok. Steady," I heard him say. "You've been through worse before. What more could this place possibly throw at you?"

My fingers twitched over the blue button for a third time before I reached over and slammed my hand down on the orange button instead as I tried to show him some mercy.

The orc abruptly collapsed, his body hitting the floor with a loud clanking of armor, but a ghostly version of him was left in its wake. He staggered back as he stared down at it.

"_What?_"He gasped."How in Oblivion can I be dead? This… this is impossible! Nothing killed me! I didn't even get a chance to fight! No chance to defend myself? No chance for battle? Why? Impossible! This is impossible… Grommok has never lost a fight! Never!"

I watched in horror as the ghost merged back with the body. He curled up on the floor, holding his head in his hands as he let out noises of anguish. My hand clenched into a fist against the console. My throat felt tight. What had I done?

Behind me, Kiliban clapped with delight. "You've made short work of the intruders. Sheogorath should be proud to have such an efficient apprentice."

"I am _not _his apprentice," I snarled, whirling on him.

He cleared his throat and, clearly nervous, said, "Right. Now, if you'll just step on this teleporter pad, I will meet you in the reception chamber."

"What about–"

"The dead will be disposed of, have no fear. That's my job. Since the orc was lucky enough to merely go insane, he will be granted a place in the Shivering Isles as a permanent resident."

He gestured toward the platform and I stepped onto it, materializing moments later in a small chamber, completely alone. I started pacing, feeling sick over what they'd made me do. Over what I'd done. I'd killed in the past. I'd killed _many _people in the past. But they had always been a danger to me, to Martin, to something important. Those people I'd just condemned had done little more than be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And all I'd had to do was press a button.

Kiliban appeared a few minutes later, dusting off his hands and grinning broadly.

"It appears everything is in order," he told me. "You're free to go, just up that hallway. Good luck to you!"

I left as quickly as I could without flat-out running, making my way toward exit. As I walked down the hall a large gray crystal burst from the ground nearby. I leapt back. With loud grinding sounds several more appeared further down the hall. Then I saw them: three figures in angular, crystalline armor heading right for me. All three held swords. Upon seeing me, they emitted strange, metallic shrieking sounds that were definitely not human. I drew my blade and slashed out at the nearest one when it got close enough. Its helmet was knocked clean off and, as it crumpled to the floor of the ruin, I saw that it had no head. I blocked a swing from one of the others and swept its legs out from underneath it. Stepping over the clattering pieces of armor, I kicked the final creature in the chest, sending it tumbling down the flight of stairs behind it.

I heard footsteps behind me and whirled around, barely stopping my blow in time when I saw it was Kiliban. The mer looked around at the fragmented pieces of fallen armor.

"That was quite a battle. I hope you are uninjured," he said.

I sheathed my sword. "What were those things?"

"You've not heard the legends? How could that be?" I shot him a scathing look and he sighed. "Those "things" as you called them are the soulless abominations known as the Knights of Order. Their attraction to the Resonator isn't surprising: it was built from one of the obelisks that dot the Isles they seem to have an affinity for. You must proceed to Sheogorath at once and tell him the Knights have returned."


	5. Chapter 5: Paranoia

"Knights," I snapped when Sheogorath asked me for a status report. "I was attacked by _Knights_."

He seemed somewhat surprised by that, although mostly just disinterested. "So soon? Not a surprise, I suppose. We'll get to that later. No need to burden your little brain with it now."

I gritted my teeth.

"And Xedilian? Since you're standing here, I assume you've succeeded. Or you're terribly confused. Or really lacking in good judgment."

"Xedilian's functioning again, yes," I said, remembering all the horrible things that had been done there. The adventurers' screams still echoed in my head.

Sheogorath grinned widely and cackled, "Wonderful! Time for a celebration! Cheese for everyone!" He paused as if considering it. "Wait, scratch that. Cheese for no one. That can be just as much of a celebration, if you don't like cheese. True? You've run a maze like a good little rat, but no cheese for you yet. Well, maybe a little."

"I don't like cheese," I ground out.

He seemed disappointed. "No? Ah well. You still need to defeat Jyggalag and stop the Greymarch."

That was new.

"The… Greymarch?"

"An event. A movement. An apocalypse of sorts. Happens every era, at the end of every era. Which is to say, now. The Greymarch comes, and Jyggalag walks. Or runs," he scoffed. "Never skips, sidles, or struts. Mostly, he just destroys everything around him."

Another apocalypse. Just what I needed. "Who is this Jyggalag?"

"The Daedric Prince of Order. Or biscuits…" Sheogorath shook his head. "No, no. Order. And not in a good way. Bleak. Colorless. Dead. Boring, boring, _boring. _And not a fan of My work, I can tell you. Hates it. Hates Me. A bit single-minded, if you take My meaning. You've seen his knights. Not the warm and cuddly sort. Not a bit of original thought in their lifeless husks. So, you're going to help Me stop him."

It wasn't as if I had much choice.

"How do you propose I do that?"

"_Again _with the niggling little details! Hold your tongue, or I will," he snapped. "We'll get to that, all in due time. For now, you've got other work to do."

"And what would you ask of me now?" I asked in a mockingly polite tone.

The Daedra rose menacingly to stand over me. His gold eyes flashed as he roared, "Ask? _Ask? _I don't ask! I tell! This is My Realm, remember? My creation, My place, My rules! Look at you. No concept of what you've stumbled into. No sense of place. You don't even really know where you are, do you?" He shrugged and stepped down from the dais. Pacing down the length of the carpet, he continued, "I suppose few really do, but that's beside the point. We're going to give you a taste of where you have found yourself. You're going to learn."

He turned abruptly, pointing his cane at me. I pursed my lips and asked, "Learn what, exactly?"

"Two halves, two rulers, two places. Meet and greet," he told me with a grin. "Do what they will, so you know what they're about. The Duke of Mania and the Duchess of Dementia. Seek them out, and let them show you what New Sheoth is. You might be surprised. Once you understand what My Realm is, you might understand why it's important to keep it intact. And maybe you'll make some friends along the way. That's always nice!"

That didn't seem likely.

* * *

I woke bit by bit, stretching out the kinks in my arms and back from sleeping in a bed after so long. As I slowly became more aware I abruptly froze. My eyes snapped open.

I'd had no nightmare taunting me with Martin's presence before ripping him away again just as quickly. Just blessed, uninterrupted sleep. That took me a moment to wrap my head around. Not once since the night he died had I been without that awful dream. But then… silence. Absolute silence. I stared at the flat gray stone of the wall.

Colored light filtered in through the room's stained glass window, sending streaks of patterned rainbows across the blanket. I climbed out of bed and brushed my fingers through my hair to untangle the strands. The stone floor was cold beneath my bare feet as I crossed the room and pulled on my armor. Sheogorath wanted me to talk to the Duke and Duchess, who were presumably almost as bad as him? Fine, but I wasn't going in unprepared. I tied back my hair and strapped my sword to my hip and quiver to my back before stepping out.

The wing of New Sheoth's palace belonging to Dementia looked like Sheogorath's only smaller, colder, and darker. Sconces of blue fire lit the main chamber, casting eerie shadows all around the hall. The throne that rested in the center of the dais was made of dark, angular stone. The Duchess was a Bosmer, dwarfed by the massive frill of spikes from the collar of her dress. Her black hair was pulled up into an elegant yet severe knot. She watched my approach with cold, narrowed eyes.

"Why do you approach the Duchess of Dementia?" She asked coolly as I stopped before her throne. "Do you seek death?"

"I was told to find you," I said, unfazed by her threat. Some of the distrust vanished from her eyes, but only a little.

"You're the one the Madgod sent, aren't you?" When I nodded, she continued, "Then you're safe for now. Speak to no one unless I instruct you to. None of them can be trusted. Do you hear me? None!" The Duchess rose from her throne and began pacing over the dais, the black silk of her dress rustling as she walked. "Surrounded by traitors and spies, I am. Always, always. They watch and wait, eager to slip a knife into my spine when I'm not looking."

I sighed. "Who do you think is spying on you?"

"Could be all of them. Every last one. None can be trusted. But they'll never take me down. Never! I'll see them all rotting in shallow graves before I let my guard down!" She paused. Slowly, she turned to look at me with a wicked smile. "You… _you _will help me. Yes, yes. You will be most useful."

"What exactly would you have me do?"

"You're going to find out who knows. You're going to learn who keeps secrets, who conspires against me. You will be my Grand Inquisitor." She clapped her hands together, apparently pleased by the thought. "Expose the conspirators, and they will be punished, I assure you. Find out who keeps secrets and what they are. Speak with Herdir. He will help you. Do you understand what is required of you? If no one is found, _you _will be held responsible."

I'd expected as much. Good to know I wasn't wrong. "Where do I find this Herdir?"

"In the torture chamber, of course." She pointed toward a doorway off the hall.

I turned on my heel and walked in the direction she'd indicated. Past the doorway was a dark, twisting hall lined with dusty tapestries and flickering torches. There was a door at the end. I pushed it open to reveal a large chamber.

Cells with rusty barred doors lined the walls and large patches of dark red blood stained the stone floor. There was some sort of cage at the room's center, surrounded by large, twisted statues of daedric monsters. As I passed by them, I heard pained groaning coming from the shadows within some of the cells. On the other side of the room, I saw a man in tattered clothes and wearing no shoes hunched over something. Upon closer inspection, I saw that he was cleaning the blood off some kind of strange, wicked-looking tool.

"Herdir?" I called.

He looked up at me with pale eyes and asked in a monotone, "What brings you to this delightful corner of the house of Dementia? How may I help you?"

"You're supposed to come with me," I told him.

"That's rather forward of you, don't you think? We've only just met and already you're ordering me around…" He smiled coldly. "I must say, I enjoy this take-charge attitude. I presume you are the Grand Inquisitor, then? Lady Syl said she'd be appointing someone. Shall we get to work? There's much to be done. So many people to visit."

"What exactly are we supposed to do?"

"Isn't it obvious? We need to search through Crucible, looking for these traitors. Talk to whoever might have information. If they're reluctant to help, you just say the word and I'll do my best to _persuade_ them."

The way he said that sent chills down my spine.

"Really, we should be going. Her Ladyship expects results."

"What results?"

Herdir shrugged. "I don't expect we'll learn much. While I have the utmost respect for her Ladyship, she is well known for being… overly cautious. We must carry out her wishes, however. And I, for one, am looking forward to, ah… _interacting _with the citizens of Crucible."

I cringed at that, but swallowed my disgust enough to ask, "Where would you start?"

He appeared to be thinking hard for a few moments, gazing into empty space. "I would begin with someone close to Lady Syl. Someone you might not suspect." A slow grin appeared on his face. "Her Ladyship's steward, Kithlan."

With a name and someplace to start, the torture master led me down the halls in search of the steward. It didn't take long. The Redguard was walking toward us, absently leaving through the stack of papers in his hands.

"Kithlan!" I called. When he looked up at me in irritation, I decided to play along with the paranoid Duchess's ideas and said, "I wanted to talk to you about the conspiracy that the Duchess seems to think is going around."

He looked back down at his papers. "There are no conspiracies here. Go pester someone else."

The way he hesitated made me pause. So there really was something_. _I glanced at Herdir out of the corner of my eye. He was staring at me, his fingers twitching. I sighed and nodded to him. No sooner had I done that when Herdir shoved the steward against the wall. Papers went flying, scattering all over the floor and Herdir slammed his hand against the man's chest. Electricity sparked from his fingertips and Herdir cried out. I cringed. While I might have detested the Shivering Isles and been none-too pleased with most of the residents, I still didn't want… _that._

"I swear. I know nothing about a conspiracy!" He begged. Herdir shocked him again and the Redguard doubled over in pain. "All right… please, just stop."

"Enough," I said. "Talk."

Kithlan took a few gasping breaths before saying, "I don't know anything specific, but Anya has been looking scared lately. More scared than usual. I think something's going on with her. Now please, leave me alone!"

Herdir let him go and he sank to his hands and knees amongst his papers, shaking hard.

"Anya?" I asked the torturer quietly.

"Anya Herrick. She serves Lady Syl."

The woman in question turned out to be outside in the palace courtyard, returning from Crucible below. She caught sight of me and her olive-green eyes widened.

"You must be Lady Syl's Inquisitor," she said, sinking into a hasty curtsey. So, word traveled fast. That… wasn't good.

"I've just been informed that you might know something about a conspiracy."

She blanched. "What? N…no. I don't know anything about anything. I'm sorry, I can't help you."

Insides twisting ruefully, I said, "Herdir."

Anya saw the torturer approaching and hastily raised her hands in a pleading gesture. "Please. I am not _involved…. _I didn't do anything! They wanted me to get them close to Syl, but I wouldn't abide them!"

I grabbed Herdir's arm, holding him back. "What are you talking about?"

"I… I don't know, not for sure," she stammered. "Ma'zaddha came to me, said that Syl needed to be removed, and that I was supposed to help them, or else. I would be far too afraid to turn on Syl. But I couldn't turn them in, either, because they might come after me. Please, you must do something!"

* * *

We tracked Ma'zaddha down to a meeting he was supposed to be having with Nelrene, Syl's Captain of the Guard, that night in Crucible. I told Herdir to remain behind at the palace. What I needed if I wanted to find out what was going on was subtlety, something that he did _not_ possess.

I'd tried not to flinch too hard when he said before I left, "Please don't have too much fun without me."

The meeting was supposed to be in a dark, sewage filled alley. For several moments I was alone. Then I saw the Khajiit approaching from the opposite direction. Creeping back, I hid behind some crates under a set of rickety stairs nearby. Once I was safely out of sight, I peered out from between them. He glanced around furtively. Soon I heard boots thumping and creaking on the stairs above me. The Guard Captain came into view moments later, her iridescent armor glinting in the faint light.

"Have you made any progress?" She asked him in a hushed voice. "Will Anya assist us?"

"No," he grumbled, "that blasted Inquisitor got to her. We'll need to find someone else."

Her glare was icy as she said, "See that you do so immediately. This is the one task which you were assigned. If you cannot complete it, you will be removed. Are we clear?"

"I will, I will!" He told her hastily, taking a step back. "I want to see Syl dead just as much as you do. She cannot be allowed to survive, after what she's done. It's despicable."

"Good. I shall expect a progress report soon. And keep your head down; the Inquisitor must not become involved."

Nelrene turned on her heel and quickly left the alley, but Ma'zaddha was slower. I waited until she was gone to creep out of my hiding place and approach the Khajiit.

"Ma'zaddha," I called softly, not wanting anyone else to hear except for him.

He started at the sound of my voice. Turning, the Khajiit flashed me a hasty, sharp-toothed grin.

"Ah, I did not see you there. Have you seen any of Ma'zaddah's things? A shiny spoon, or a broken bottle? I can't find them."

I glared at him. "Don't play dumb. I know you're involved in all of this."

"I don't know anything, and you can't prove that I do," he snapped, his ears flattening.

"I heard you talking to Nelrene."

"What? I… I… It's for the good of Crucible! You must see that!" I drew my blade and his yellow eyes widened. "Please, spare me! I'll do anything!"

"Why do you want Syl dead?"

"You don't know, do you? She's kept it a secret even from you!"

Apparently no one knew how long I'd been there or how relatively unimportant I actually was.

When I kept me sword pointed at his throat, he swallowed hard and said, "She and Thadon… they've been meeting in secret. They've been doing thing together. Consorting. You understand me?"

I realized Thadon must have been the Duke of Mania. The Khajiit's meaning was perfectly clear.

"Unfortunately."

"It cannot be permitted!" He wailed. "She must be stopped!"

"Who else is involved?"

Ma'zaddha shook his head. "I don't know, besides Nelrene. She's taking orders from someone, but won't tell me who. If I find out, will you promise to spare me?"

"Fine," I said, sheathing my sword. "Just bring me the names."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you! You are too kind. I shall bring you names, I promise. Meet me in my house tomorrow at midnight. I'll have the information for you."

He scrambled away up the stairs and I watched him go. All I had to do was wait.

* * *

When I returned the following night with Herdir following, Ma'zaddha's door was unlocked and slightly ajar. That was not a good sign. I nodded to the torture master and we carefully entered the house.

The main room on the ground floor was filled with clutter. Old pots, broken bottles, white bones, bent utensils. They were stacked on shelves and rested in piles all around the floor. At the center of it all was Ma'zaddha, lying in a pool of his own blood. I knelt down to check for any sign of life, but I already knew it was too late long before I felt that there wasn't any pulse.

"Damn it," I hissed. Someone had gotten there before us. Nelrene? Someone else we hadn't known about?

That was when I noticed something clutched tightly in his fist. Tugging open his grip, I found a key lying on the palm of his hand. I took it. There was nothing in the room to unlock, so I headed upstairs.

The upper floor was a cobweb-covered bedroom littered with yet more clutter. I picked my way through the mess to examine a small cabinet on the other side of the room. When I tested the key in its lock, I heard a sharp _click. _Pulling open the cabinet's doors, I pulled out an ornate, black sword and a crinkled note. Smoothing out the parchment, I began to read.

_I haven't got much time. She's coming for me._

_Nelrene asked me to hold onto this sword. Said I should give it to Anya and have her do the deed, but Anya wouldn't. Now maybe it can find a better use as evidence. Syl will recognize it._

_Muurine is in charge. She's the one telling Nelrene what to do. If I'm not around, I hope this is enough evidence to bring her in._

_I hope I'm alive to see it._

Through gritted teeth, I asked Herdir, "Where is Muurine?"

He smiled. "Follow me."

Herdir led me through the darkened, winding streets of Crucible to an unassuming door. I quickly picked open the lock and stormed into the house. I'd barely entered what seemed to be an elegant sort of living room when an elderly Altmer woman in a black dressing gown came down the stairs from the upper floor.

"Well, well," she said pleasantly. "You must be the Inquisitor."

"You're the one trying to have Syl killed."

Muurine smiled serenely. "I see you've done quite a bit of work to track me down." She waved her hand about in a detached way as she went on, "Yes, I orchestrated it. Syl deserves to die a painful death for turning on all of us and consorting with our enemies. Go ahead, do what you will. Nothing matters now."

I nodded toward her and said, "Herdir, take her away. I'll inform the Duchess."

* * *

Syl glared at me from her throne. It was late, but she was still awake. I wondered if she ever actually slept. It didn't seem likely that she did.

"What news do you have to report, Inquisitor?" She snapped. "Have you found who is responsible?"

"Muurine was behind it all."

A cold smile crept onto her lips. "Is that so? Very well. Meet me in the torture chamber shortly."

The Duchess got smoothly to her feet and walked away, practically gliding across the floor. Anya and Kithlan stood nearby, both with dark circles beneath their eyes, looking worried and sullen. I avoided their gaze and followed the Duchess down the hall.

Muurine was in the cage at the center of the torture chamber when we arrived. Syl stepped forward, glaring at the Altmer. The Duchess put one hand on her hip and the other on a strange lever nearby.

"You've confessed to attempting to kill me, I understand," she said coolly. "The penalty for this treachery is death, and is to be carried out _immediately._"

She abruptly slammed down lever. Bolts of electricity shot from the mouths of the daedra statues that surrounded the cage, striking the metal bars and the womer inside. Muurine shrieked and fell to the floor of the cage, convulsing violently. My fists clenched and I looked away. Just having to hear the strangled, tortured screams was bad enough.

Then everything fell silent. I still couldn't force myself to look.

"You see now what happens when those who oppose me fail, which they always do," Syl told me. I stared at her, disgusted. She didn't notice. Her eyes were focused on the corpse that was still locked inside the cage as she said, "I am pleased with your work. As a token of my appreciation, I shall spare your life."

How wonderful for me.


	6. Chapter 6: Addiction

The Mania wing of the palace resembled Dementia's, only brighter and less cold. Red and gold tapestries hung from the stone walls. The throne, carved out of twisted wood and inlaid with pieces of amber, had a long table set before it. Despite being late morning when I entered, the main hall was also completely empty. I glanced around in confusion. Where was everyone?

From somewhere at the back of the hall, one of the guards of Mania appeared, her gold armor catching the sunlight that came in through the windows as she walked. She beckoned to me.

"This way," she said. "The Duke is expecting you."

I followed her out a door at the back of the chamber and into the courtyard beyond. A covered walkway encircled the enormous garden there. Birds chirped loudly from somewhere in the trees. The guard departed then, leaving me to enter the garden alone.

As I walked through, I was careful to avoid brushing against the odd purple mushrooms and vibrantly colored flowers that seemed as though they were probably poisonous. At one point, I passed by an Argonian woman in a silver dress with a veil of the same color pinned to her horns as she read quietly in a stone chair.

At the very center of the garden, a figure surrounded by bowing trees was busy painting. He was dressed in turquoise and gold robes, with an odd twisted crown set with tiny blue-green gems on his head. The canvas before him was covered in bright colors, but the design was so muddled that I had no idea what it was supposed to be depicting. As I approached, I could hear that he was humming to himself.

"Are you Duke Thadon?" I asked.

He turned to face me, smiling. There was a dreamy, detached sort of look in his eyes.

"Ah yes. There you are. You couldn't imagine how long I've been waiting for you. So little to do, and so much time." He paused and made a small _hmm_ sound. "Could you, in fact, imagine just how long I've been waiting? I don't think you could, but I might be wrong. I might also not care. Which is it?"

I sighed. "You don't care?"

"Don't I?" He giggled. "I thought I did. But then I also thought that you would be… heavier. Look at you; you're light as a chair. How _do _you walk around like that?" I glared at him. He ignored me. "It's all the same to me, either way. All of it. Nothing is right without the Chalice. Have you ever used it? No, of course not. You simply must!"

The Duke set down his brush and paints and walked away through the garden. I followed close behind, watching him gesture wildly as he spoke.

"You just have to try it. It'll change your world, expand your horizons. Contracting leads to expanding, you know. Well, most of the time," he said.

"This… chalice. What is it, exactly?"

"One of my favorite toys. Does wonders for creativity. Well, not by itself, but it helps. Those Elytra, clever little bugs that they are. Is this making sense?"

"No."

"Look, you eat the Felldew, then use the Chalice, and find the world a much brighter and happier place. Honest." His expression abruptly darkened. "But I don't have it. So I can't eat Felldew, because that would just be bad. I mean really bad. Damn her!"

I frowned, puzzled. "Who?"

Thadon let out a long sigh. "We hold on to fleeting things even as we slip. I knew, and yet I indulged myself anyway. I indulged her a fair bit, too." He laughed. "It was passion. It was… _forbidden. _Oh, the things that would be said if word got out. That made it all the more delicious. From Dementia's own court, no less. Scandalous! Fatal, perhaps. But passion makes no accommodation for self-preservation."

"Syl," I said, quickly realizing what he meant. "You're talking about Syl."

He smirked, his expression almost menacing for the first time. "Well, aren't you the clever one? Mind you don't get too full of yourself. You might explode."

"What happened?"

He shrugged. "Opposites repel, strangely enough. All that pleasure and pain locked away now, as if it never happened. Unfortunately, the Chalice is locked away as well. I have no wish to retrieve it myself, but fetching it might do _you_ some good."

"But–"

"My head is positively throbbing now… can you see it?" He clutched a hand to his forehead. "I need to lie down. Find someone to tell you the rest of the story. Get the Chalice."

Two of the guards seemed to almost materialize at his elbows and quickly led the swooning duke away. Alone once again, I sighed, surrounded by the sounds of rustling leaves and bird song. As I made my way back through the garden, I passed by the Argonian again. I stopped.

Before I could say a word, she looked up from her book and said, "You've been speaking to Thadon. I can tell. He has a certain… effect on people." She tilted her head to the side. "Did he mention me, perhaps? Or was there something else you wanted to discuss?"

He said I needed to find someone to fill in the gaps about the chalice. Well, there was someone. "He said I need to find some kind of chalice? He was very vague about it."

She nodded. "I don't ask too many questions of Thadon. It's precious to him, and that's all that matters. It's his own business. But didn't he mention where it is?" When I shook my head her large, orange eyes abruptly widened so much that I thought they might pop from her head. "_Oh_… I see. How brilliant of him. This is for you as much as it is for him. Oh, very good, Thadon! Dunroot Burrow is your goal, my friend. And what a goal it is."

"Dunroot Burrow?"

"Yes, yes." She set down her book on a spindly white table at her elbow and leaned toward me. "A most unique place. Of course the Chalice would be there! Don't you see? It's the Elytra. They're the reason. The Chalice, Felldew, Elytra… it's all connected. One without the others is no good. Poison. Oh, a rough road awaits you."

Not surprising, but it wasn't exactly welcome news either.

"Some Elytra there are… different," she explained. "You'll need to get Felldew from them and eat it. Can't get in without it. But once you do…" She stopped and shook her head. "He wants you to learn for yourself. Learn, grow, experience. It's his way. I shouldn't say more. But the Burrow, it's northeast of New Sheoth."

"I don't understand. What is Felldew?"

"Oh, it wouldn't do to speak of it. Thadon's plan for you, I mean. I like you, little one, but I would never interfere with what Thadon wants."

* * *

Dunroot burrow was located at the top of a hill deep inside of Mania territory. Unlike Dementia, everything there was bright. The sky above was clear blue streaked with gold. The trees that dotted the hillside had leaves the color of fire or emeralds. Flowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors grew everywhere. It was unsettling.

The Burrow itself seemed to be beneath the old stump of what must once have been a massive tree. From between its roots came a vibrantly colored antlike creature that was bigger than I was. An Elytra.

Crouching behind a tree, I drew back my bowstring. When I released it, the arrow found its mark in the Elytra's head. The creature's limbs flailed as it went down and it continued to twitch feebly as I approached. Up close I could see it possessed a faint greenish glow.

I'd managed to wrestle enough information from the Argonian to know what I needed to do. Kneeling beside the corpse, I drew my knife and, with some effort, hacked a hole in the Elytra's shell. Underneath was a layer of thick, green slime. So _that_ was Felldew. Wrinkling my nose and trying not to gag, I stuck my fingers into it. With the Felldew coating my fingertips I sighed, closed my eyes, and raised them to my lips. The taste was so overpoweringly, cloyingly sweet with an awful salty aftertaste that I nearly retched. I pushed down my nausea and swallowed.

The moment I did my head felt somehow clearer, lighter. I opened my eyes and everything seemed to have brightened. That… was probably not a good sign.

Getting to my feet, I climbed down through the roots. At the base was a thick membrane covering a tunnel into the hill. I reached out to touch it and it shrank away from me, clearing the passage beyond. I cautiously stepped inside.

The tunnels below were narrow and winding, the only light coming from within plants covered in papery gold skin. I shot another Elytra that blocked the passage and nimbly stepped over the resulting corpse. Sharp roots jutted out of the walls here and there, which I was careful to avoid.

For some time everything seemed fine. Then my head began to pound. I grimaced and rubbed my forehead. As the seconds passed it only became worse. I stopped, covering my face and sucking a harsh breath through my teeth. Poison, the Argonian had said. The Felldew was poison if you didn't keep taking it. That was Thadon's plan: to make me keep taking the stuff or die in that pit. I wouldn't do it. I wouldn't.

Biting back the pain, I kept walking.

* * *

Everything was spinning. The tunnels, spinning. My head throbbed and my vision blurred in and out. I could still kill the Elytra, though. Or I thought I could. Was I imagining them, or were they real? I wasn't sure anymore. I felt feverish. Shaking all over, sweat beading on my forehead. It was poison. The Felldew. Poison. But I couldn't take it. I couldn't let them win.

I had to focus.

"Talos grant me strength… Stendarr grant me patience… A – Akatosh…"

"_Your precious Divines can't hear you,_" a voice that sounded almost like Sheogorath's hissed in my ear. Or was it Mankar Camoran's? Dagon's? "_No one can hear you. You are alone."_

_"__Mara!"_

I whirled searching for the source of the voices and I stumbled, falling over a root and into water below. Choking, shaking, I pushed myself up onto my knees with trembling arms. Sifting through the water, I grabbed my bow. I thought I heard snatches of voices again, their words too faint to make out. Crawling through the water and Divines-knew-what-else, I used a nearby root to pull myself back to my feet. My clothes were soaked through and only made me shiver harder.

I clambered up through the next tunnel, boots slipping. Faltering. I dragged myself up, digging my fingers in, grabbing roots where I could. Sometimes they were further away than I thought and I'd slip again.

There was a clacking, clattering noise and an Elytra suddenly loomed over me. It shrieked, hitting me with its stinger. Sharp pain, red-hot, pulsed through my arm. I gasped and drew back. Before it could strike again I pulled out my sword and stabbed blindly at it as it focused, unfocused. I felt a blow hit and drove the blade deeper, twisting. The Elytra screamed and I backed off to avoid its wildly thrashing limbs. When it was no more than barely twitching, I crawled over the body and kept walking, holding my injured arm close to my chest.

It was like a maze. Twisting, turning. Around and around again. Was I going in circles? That root looked familiar, maybe. Or that plant. I thought I heard footsteps behind me, but there was no one there when I looked back. Were they mine? Was I imagining it? And voices lurking, murmuring. Always there. Ones I thought I recognized and ones I didn't.

A tentacle-like vine shot out from the wall, grabbing at me. I gasped and jumped away from its grip. My skin where it had me touched stung. Burned. I skirted around it and kept going. I couldn't stop, no matter how much my legs shook and threatened to give way beneath me. No. The walls felt like they were melting underneath my hands as I pulled myself along. Oozing over my fingertips. I shuddered and looked away. Keep going, keep going.

Then stone. Solid stone. I hesitated, staring at the wall before me. A stone wall. Human construction, not like the rest of the den. It wasn't a trick? An illusion? No, it was real. A metal door was set into it, heavy and solid. Was the Chalice on the other side? I pushed hard against the door, gripping the handle. It finally inched open with a loud _groan._

Beyond was a flight of stairs. I went up them, blinking in the suddenly bright light. My head had been pounding before, but right then it felt like it would burst. My eyes watered and I gritted my teeth to block the pain.

The room was swimming before me, but I thought I saw statues, dirty tapestries, tables covered with Felldew. I heard voices, saw the blurred outlines of figures running toward me. I fired at one of them. The arrow missed. A moment later a fist collided with my jaw and sent me sprawling across the floor. I tried to catch my breath but it felt like my chest was being squeezed tight. Gasping, I shakily got up and drew my sword. The figures struck again and I cut the first one down. The second was smarter. Dodging, waiting. When I whirled to face them, my head spun painfully and I staggered. They pounced, knocking me to the ground again. I felt hands around my neck. Tighter, tighter. I couldn't breathe. Desperate, I slammed the heel of my hand up where I thought their face was and I felt their nose crush beneath the blow. The hands on my neck abruptly released me and I rolled out of the way.

I lay on the floor, listening. Nothing. There was another flight of stairs. I dragged myself up them with shaking arms. I couldn't stand. Too long without. Poison. If I didn't find the Chalice…

Ahead was a pedestal. On it was something gold. I blinked, but it wouldn't come into focus. Was it the Chalice? I pulled myself across the floor toward it. Scrabbling at the pedestal, I reached for the glimmer of gold. It was too high. I had to reach it… I had to…

My fingers brushed something cold and everything went black.

* * *

I blinked, feeling dizzy.

I lay on the floor, curled up on my side. Faint memories of what happened back there in the den made me shiver in horror. I'd made it, I'd resisted, but just barely. A few more seconds and I would have been dead. And the way it had twisted my mind like that… I shuddered again.

My left arm twinged painfully. When I glanced at it, I saw that it was swollen. I faintly remembered being stung by one of the Elytra. Wincing, I sat up and brought a healing spell to my fingertips. The gold light flowed over the wound and the swelling instantly went down. That finished, I glanced up.

The Chalice rested on top of the stone pedestal. Touching it had cured the withdrawal, thank the Nine. Getting to my feet, I staggered back down the stairs to retrieve my bow and sword, stepping over the bodies of my attackers. Once I had them back, I grabbed the Chalice and tucked it under my arm.

At the other side of the room was another door. I walked toward it and pushed it open, revealing a hillside lit by the evening sky. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was out.

The relief I felt was short-lived, however. As I walked up the hill I heard a grinding sound accompanied by the crackle of electricity, looking around, I saw one of those obelisks nearby and several of the Knights already running toward me.

I drew my sword with a sigh.

* * *

Thadon milled about the throne room when I arrived, talking with animated gestures to flamboyantly dressed people that I could only assume were members of his court. He looked up at my approach and his eyes instantly fixed on the Chalice in my hands.

"The triumphant champion returns!" He crowed. Then he examined me thoughtfully. "So, do you feel any different? Now that you've been through this experience, I mean. You know what it's like now… always wanting that next fix, hating it but craving it at the same time, and hating yourself for all of it."

My hands tightened around the Chalice, nails scraping against the gold as I stifled a snarl. I forced myself to look away. The Duke sighed.

"Ah, well. All over now. The Chalice helps, doesn't it? Indeed it does, and I could use some helping right now. I'll just take that back from you." He hastily took it from me, sighing with contentment the instant his hands came into contact with it.

"Am I free to go?" I asked him through clenched teeth.

He waved me away, too preoccupied with his prize. "Yes, yes. Go."

I turned on my heel and marched out of Mania's wing of the palace, sick of the place. Almost without meaning to, I found myself standing before Sheogorath. He looked amused.

"Well, well," he chuckled. "So you've experienced both shades of madness. Wonderful. You seem fulfilled. Full of fill. Bursting at the seams. Seamless."

I seemed tired and shaken and more than a little angry.

Sheogorath leaned forward. He pressed his fingertips together and watched me with those eerie gold eyes. "Now to the meat of your endeavor. The crux of the situation. The reason for your being here, and the likely cause of your death."


	7. Chapter 7: Cylarne

"What do you mean?"

Sheogorath laughed. "You'll be stopping the Greymarch. Altering the course of events, breaking the circle. A fly in the ointment. A new cause for a different effect. We're going to change things. No…" He looked away, suddenly distracted. "… Things will be different this time around."

I frowned, but an instant later he was looking back at me with a grin as if nothing had happened. "You'll be my Champion. You'll grow powerful. You'll grow to be _me. _Prince of Madness, a new Sheogorath. Or you'll die trying. I love that about you."

I made a noise somewhere between disgust and confusion. Me? _A Daedric Prince?_ No, no, no.

"How can a mortal even become a Daedric Prince?"

"A fair question. You won't, really. At least I don't think so." He shrugged. "But you'll have power. _My _power. Try not to lose it. It's a pain to replace. But, for all intents and purposes, you'll be Me. A Me to fight the _Him_ since I won't be around. It's simple really, if you don't think about it."

I crossed my arms and regarded him warily. "Why trust me with your precious power?"

"Because you seem a nice enough sort. And you've made it this far." He laughed and added, "And if you don't, I'll swallow your soul and vomit it into the Everfilling Chamberpot of the Ageless." His face abruptly turned dark, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. "But mostly because I asked _nicely._"

"If I do this… will you let my mother go?"

Sheogorath scoffed. "You're not exactly in a position to be negotiating. But yes. Yes, I will let the damsel go free."

I swallowed hard, knowing I had no choice.

"And where will you be through all of this?" I asked.

"Not here. Didn't I say that? I'm never here when Jyggalag walks. It's one of the Rules. I've told you too much for now. Listen to me prattle on. I can see your mortal brain straining. We'll talk more later."

"So what now?"

He pointed to one of the palace windows. "You've seen the Great Torch that burns brightly over New Sheoth? No? Because it _doesn't_. It should, but it doesn't. You'll fix that."

He got up and strode over to the window, looking out of it in an almost thoughtful way. His cane tapped absently against the floor.

"You'll go to Cylarne and bring back the Flame of Agnon to relight the torch. Oh… and take care with my minions there. In their eternal quest to please me, they're constantly fighting over the place. It can be tiresome. But, really, it's divine. Divinely tiresome." He clapped his hands together. "Well, that's your problem now. Off with you. I don't want to see you again until the Great Torch is lit. I wouldn't want to have to hurt you. Much."

* * *

Cylarne was little more than a crumbling ruin on a small island connected to the mainland only by a rickety bridge. Dark towers loomed above me and dead, twisted vines covered the walls. A Mazken guard was standing near the entrance. She drew her sword at my approach.

"State your business," she barked. "Cylarne is holy ground, unfit for mortals."

"I've been sent by Sheogorath to light the Flame of Agnon," I told her.

She sheathed her blade and bowed her head slightly in response to my words. "Then you are free to enter the Shrine. The Flame of Agnon is lit from the Shrine's two Altars. Once the Aureals are driven out of Cylarne, it will be our pleasure to light the Flame for Sheogorath. The Grakedrig Ulfri will explain everything. You should speak to her at once."

Turning, she unlocked a gate leading further into the ruin and gestured to the courtyard beyond. On the other side was an elaborately embossed metal door set into the wall. I passed through the gate and the door to descend a flight of stairs into the ruin. Below were a series of halls lit by sconces and chandeliers filled with emerald-green flames. I stepped around and over the large chunks of stone from crumbled places in the walls and ceiling. Another Mazken approached, blocking my way and glaring at me suspiciously.

"What is your business here?"

"Sheogorath sent me," I sighed for the second time.

"Then I am at your service. The Grakedrik Ulfri commands here. You will wish to speak to her at once, no doubt."

"Yes. Take me to her."

The Mazken led me down a hallway to a set of chambers filled with more of the guards. I ascended a set of stairs, feeling their eyes on me. A single Mazken broke away. The design on her armor was more elaborate than that of the rest. Her helmet was tucked under her arm.

"Begone, mortal," she told me in an imperious voice, "or you will soon find yourself between the Mazken and their prey. A most dangerous place to be."

"Prey?"

She sniffed. "We are preparing to wipe out the arrogant Aureals once and for all. Once they break themselves on our defenses, Cylarne will be ours, a gift for our Lord Sheogorath."

"I need to light the Flame of Agnon," I said.

Ulfri looked me over carefully. Then she smiled. "Then you have arrived just in time to help us defend the Altar of Despair. Once the strength of the Aureals is shattered, I will be honored to light the Flame as my Lord Sheogorath commands."

"What's the plan?"

"We are expecting the Aureals to attack any moment. They'll come down the main passage from the Altar of Rapture. They always do." She pointed to a doorway leading to another room. "They are overconfident, as usual. We have prepared many traps and ambushes. It will be a glorious slaughter. Once the Aureals are destroyed, I will light the Flame of Agnon for you. Will you help us defend the Altar of Despair?"

I nodded.

"This will be a glorious day! Cylarne will finally be free of the Aureals. Follow me. We're expecting the attack at any moment." Ulfri led me through into the next room, calling out as she put on her helmet, "Mazken! Into your positions!"

Everyone formed up. The archers stayed on a bridge over the hall below and drew their bows. I joined them and watched another group of archers get into place on a balcony to the right. The fighters appeared in the hall below, waiting in columns with their swords and maces ready. Several ran ahead, vanishing down the hall. Everyone watch in silence. After a few minutes I heard the sound of marching footsteps in the distance.

The air was suddenly rent with shouts and screams along with distant whirring and snapping noises. Those were traps Ulfri had mentioned. Several Aureals appeared at the end of the hall, covered in blood. I saw that several of them were already badly injured.

"The Aureals are beginning their attack!" Ulfri shouted. "Show them no mercy! Today, Cylarne shall finally belong to us!"

I fired, hitting one of the Aureals at the front of the host. The Mazken charged, shouting battle cries, and the hall descended into chaos. I shot the attackers that I could while trying to avoid accidentally hitting the Mazken warriors. Dark blood sprayed everywhere as they tore into each other. Spells flew, flashing brightly and leaving scorch marks on the walls when they missed their targets. Several of the Aureals broke through the fight and sprinted for the stairs leading into our part of the ruin. The archer abruptly ran back toward them, drawing their swords. I followed them.

Fighting broke out on the stairs leading up to where we'd just come from. One of the Aureals avoided the rest of the Mazken and made her way toward me. I swung my bow, hitting her across the face. As she staggered back I drew an arrow and quickly shot her down.

Once they were all dead Ulfri barked orders at the Mazken. Several of them ran toward the hallway that the Aureals had come from. I followed Ulfri and the rest into the Shrine. One by one they knelt down all around the chamber, clasping their hands together and bowing their heads. As I passed, I heard them humming softly. We ascended a flight of stairs leading up to the altar platform. The back wall of the shrine was lined with statues and a number of old urns. Even more of the Mazken huddled around the altar itself. Ulfri stopped and turned to look at me.

"Victory is ours. I have already instructed my subordinates to kindle the Altar of Rapture. It is my honor to sacrifice myself on the Altar of Despair at Lord Sheogorath's command."

I stared at her, shocked and more than a little horrified at the prospect.

"Sacrifice yourself?" I asked her.

She nodded proudly. "The Altars which feed the Flame of Agnon can be kindled only by the willing death of an immortal. I have hoped for this moment since I took command of the Mazken at Cylarne. I return my soul to the embrace of Oblivion's dark waters. Farewell."

I watched as she passed through the throng, the other Mazken reaching out to touch her as she passed, and stepped onto the Altar. Turning, she drew her black sword. Her gaze lifted skyward and she raised her arms over her head. The humming from the Mazken grew louder, becoming a chant. As it reached its peak, Ulfri plunged her sword into her stomach and sank to her knees.

Dark blood dripped onto the Altar. A column of green fire flared to life, consuming her, and roared up into a hole in the ceiling.

I left the suddenly quiet crowd, going back through the ruin and out into the courtyard. A tower at the center of the ruin was filled with a roaring flame of orange mingled with green. The Flame of Agnon, obviously. I stared at it, not quite sure what to do.

"Take the Flame in your hand," the Mazken guard from earlier said. "Take it, and bring it to the Sacellum Arden-Sul in New Sheoth."

Closing my eyes and bracing myself, I reached out to touch the fire. It stung as it licked over my fingers. I winced. Opening my eyes, I pulled hand out of the fire to find it undamaged, but coated in the twisted, dual-colored flames.

* * *

When I stepped into the Sacellum Arden-Sul I almost gagged on the smell of mingled incense and what I thought might be rotting flesh. It was like a chapel. Rows of pews led up to the altar at the other end of the room. The stained glass windows set into the walls looked down onto Bliss on one side and Crucible on the other. As I walked inside, I had to step around puddles of blood that stained the wood paneled floor. I looked up to see corpses several corpses hanging from the ceiling. My nose wrinkled in disgust.

Really, I shouldn't have been surprised.

Two priests were arguing at the other end of the chapel: a Bosmer in red and gold hooded robes and a Nord in faded dark green robes. They looked up at my approach, their eyes fixing on the fire in my hand, and they nearly tripped over themselves to get to me first. I barely resisted the urge to draw my sword and skewer them both.

The Bosmer made it to me first, wheezing hard. "You've brought it! The holy Flame of Agnon the fire of Inspiration and Rapture!"

"No! She burns with the flame of Truth, the flickering beacon of hope in the gloom of despond!" The Nord said as he pushed him aside. "Come, light the Great Torch for Dementia. Illuminate the conspiracies! Deepen the shadows! The people of Crucible await their Hero!"

I looked between the two of them, not particularly thrilled with either prospect. But, I supposed it was only fair to give it to Dementia because of the Mazken.

"Fine. Let's get this over with," I said to the Nord priest.

He nodded and led me over to a small shrine built into the wall at the back of the Sacellum. "Release yourself to your secret fears and desires. Let them rule you, as they must in the end!" Pulling the grate covering the shrine aside, he gestured to it. "Now, light the Great Torch as a beacon for those who fear and those who inspire fear."

He stepped back and I reach in, touching the basin inside. The orange fire instantly died, but the green latched on, roaring to life. It was done. I turned back to see the Nord looking smugly at the Bosmer.

"I'm not talking to you," the Bosmer grumbled, crossing his arms.

That was when I heard the sound of someone slowly clapping. As I rounded the altar, I saw Sheogorath sitting in one of the pews. I approached the Madgod warily.

"Aren't you off to a good start!" He said brightly. "That's important. For me. Really, your work is going to save me a lot of time."

My lips pursed. "How?"

"The Greymarch is upon us, and the Ordering begins. Armies of Order sweep My Realm. Death. Destruction. Then I have to pick up the pieces." He let out a long sigh at the prospect. "And there are always _lots _of pieces. I don't like it, having to rebuild My Realm every era. Sometimes I forget where things go. Like New Sheoth. I can never remember where it belongs…"

He stood and walked down the sacellum, stopping before the altar.

"You'll change that. Break the cycle. You'll stop Jyggalag, and I'll have My Realm to come back to. I've never actually tried that before."

"_I _can stop the Greymarch?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

The Daedric Prince shrugged. "Why not? Something has to work. Once, I dug a pit and filled it with clouds. Or was it clowns? It doesn't matter. It didn't slow him down." He clasped his hands behind him and rocked back onto his heels. "To be honest, it wasn't the best idea. And it really began to smell. Must have been clowns. Clouds don't smell bad. They taste of butter! And tears."

He turned back to face me, stretching arms out to the sides as he cried, "But this is all _new! _A fresh idea! Something I hadn't thought of, until I did. It's sure to work, even though it might not."

Not the most cheerful thought. "So. What now?"

"Now? You'll need the respect of My citizens. They'll need a leader, someone to look up to when I'm gone. They're the backbone of any great land. Except where the backbone is an actual backbone. Ever been to Malacath's realm?"

When I shook my head he shuddered in response.

"Nasty place. But, back to the business at hand. You'll need to control one of the Courts of Madness. Replace a current Duke… or Duchess. That will command respect! The people will rally around you. You'll have their love, their admiration, their complaints!" He waved his hand in a vague gesture. "Whatever. As long as it keeps them on Our side. Once I'm gone, things usually get bad quickly. Lots of defections. Lots of carnage. But with you at the helm things will be different! This time I'll beat him. I can't stand losing. And I don't mind cheating."

"Won't the current holders of those positions be displeased?" I asked flatly.

"No. No, no, no. Absolutely not." There was a long pause as he seemed to consider the thought. "Well… yes. Absolutely. Bit of a shame for them. But sometimes you need to break a few eggs. Or skulls. There are rules, though. Even in the Isles. Rituals and rules. You need to follow them. Speak to Arctus and Dervenin, the High Priests. They can explain what needs to be done."


	8. Chapter 8: Heart

The Dementia priest, Arctus, looked up at my approach.

"Sheogorath wanted me to ask about the process of replacing a Duke or Duchess," I said. I wasn't even going to bother asking Dervenin about Mania.

The priest made a thoughtful _hmm_ sound and rubbed his chin. "Interesting. Not many wish to hear about such things, but I would be glad to oblige. Becoming the Duchess of Dementia requires passage through the Ritual of Accession, specific guidelines set forth by Arden-Sul himself. Did you want to hear the history of the Ritual?"

"No. Just tell me what I need to do."

"Very well. Spoken like a true daughter of the Demented. To become ruler of Dementia, the current leader's heart must be cut out and brought to the Altar of Arden-Sul in the Sacellum." He pointed to a basin on the altar. I grimaced. Cut her heart out? "Once this is done, I can pronounce the heart-bearer a Duke or Duchess. Then, all that is required is the blessing of our Lord, Sheogorath."

Sheogorath was still waiting in the pews when I finished speaking with Arctus. The Daedric Prince got to his feet, waiting.

"You're back!" He said. "How nice for you. Does that mean you've made a decision? Or are you lost? Suicidal? Just let me know."

"I have made my decision."

Before I could say any more, he held up a hand. "A friendly word of warning before you choose. Once you have decided which Duke to replace, there's no turning back. One choice. No more, no less. Try not to do something stupid." He abruptly banged his cane on the sacellum's floor. I jumped. "So, which is it? What will it be? Mania? Dementia? The suspense is killing me. Or you, if I have to keep waiting."

"I choose Syl," I told him.

He grinned wickedly. "A _dangerous_ choice. I like it! She's gotten to be a bit much, anyway. Thinks everyone is out to get her. Which they are, in this case. So be it."

"What should I know before I try to take her down?"

"Syl is as crafty as she is beautiful. I'd watch my back if I were you. Oh, this is so much fun!" He chortled. "But first…"

He snapped his fingers. Once he'd gotten Arctus's attention, he called, "Bring the Raiment."

The priest rummaged around at the back of the room for several moments, returning with a bracelet wrapped in black velvet. At Sheogorath's approving nod, he placed it around my wrist. The instant it touched my skin it began to grow, sliding up my arm and over my body. When it was done, it had become a gown. The whole thing was black, trimmed with an abundance of ebony-colored lace. The skirt was full, the neckline both wide and low. The ends of the sleeves nearly covered my hands. I looked down at it, frowning.

"If you're going to be the Duchess of Dementia, you might as well look the part," Sheogorath said. "And, if not, it'll be far less messy this way. Bloodstains never show up well on black."

Shrugging my shoulders in irritation, I pointed out, "I can't fight Syl in a dress."

"Who ever said you would?"

He snapped his fingers and the fabric rustled again, reshaping itself into a suit of light, form-fitting armor. I held up a hand and stared at my fingers, suddenly covered in black material.

"And it can change back?" I asked.

"Any time you wish."

Interesting.

* * *

When I stepped into the throne room, bow in hand, Syl was nowhere to be seen. The room's only occupants were Anya and Kithlan sitting on either side of the throne, looking respectively nervous and sullen.

"Where's Syl?" I demanded.

Anya flinched and whispered, "She's staying well out of sight. No need to take unnecessary risks. She fears that Sheogorath no longer favors her presence and wants her replaced."

"And what if he does?" I asked her. "What would you do then?"

She stared at the bow in my hands. A slow smile appeared on her face and she looked at Kithlan. "Perhaps I've misjudged you. All right, I'll help. Just remember me when you take over her position. What can we do to help you?"

"I need to get close to her."

"That may be difficult," Kithlan cut in. "Syl has been hidden from public sight lately. Anya?"

She shrugged. "Well, the best I can offer is help with the guards. I can distract a few of them and get them to leave her wing of the palace. That should help you to get in there a bit easier."

"This may help as well." Getting to his feet, Kithlan fished around in his pocket and pulled out a small black key. Handing it to me, he said, "Take this key. It should unlock any door in her wing. You still need to be wary of the guards that Anya can't distract, but it should help."

Kithlan stayed behind in the throne room while Anya and I made our move. She went through the door at the end of the chamber which she said led into Syl's private gardens. I went through the side entrance off of one of the palace's outer halls. Once I was inside, I watched from the shadows as Anya streaked across the desolate garden. She said something in a hysterical voice to the guards on the other side. They followed her out, back into the throne room, and I made for the door.

The halls beyond were brighter than the rest of the Dementia wing. Cold-faced statues filled the chamber, casting eerie, flickering shadows in the light of the candles. Glowing blue-green mushrooms grew in planters set into alcoves along the hall. I nocked an arrow. Everything was too quiet. There weren't any guards. Why?

The hall led into a large bedchamber. Sprawled across the covers of the enormous bed was Syl.

I approached the body warily. Glassy eyes were aimed unseeingly at the ceiling above her. Her dark hair was in disarray. I lowered my bow. She certainly _looked_ like the Duchess...

"Don't be fooled," Kithlan said, coming up to stand beside me. "The Ritual isn't over. The body on the bed isn't Syl; merely an impersonator. The real Syl uses many such decoys to throw would-be killers off her trail."

There was another set of footsteps and Anya appeared, looking worried. Kithlan sighed.

"Syl has made her escape through the hidden tunnel in the gardens outside her quarters. She must not get away."

I squared my shoulders and made for the door. "Right. I'm going after her."

"Be wary," the steward warned as he hurried to catch up with me. "I fear that her escape may be a ruse to lure you into an ambush."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Once we were back in the gardens, Kithlan pointed to an old stone bust of Sheogorath set into the courtyard wall.

"The tunnel is beneath that statue. There should be a switch on the back."

I reached around it and felt a small button on the other side. When I pressed it there was a low rumble. The statue turned around on its base and slid aside, revealing a metal ladder leading down into a dark hole. Nodding to Anya and Kithlan, I climbed down.

The tunnel below was so dark that I could hardly see a thing as I crept along. An arrow was ready should anyone appear. I strained to listen for any sign of life, but heard nothing. Ahead I saw a light. I cautiously walked toward it, bow at the ready.

The light came from another tunnel. Burning torches lined the walls. As I walked down it, I heard a rushing sound and barely stepped aside in time to avoid the fireball that streaked past. From my place against the wall, I peered down toward the end of the tunnel. There I could see a statue of some kind of daedric monster. As I watched, another fireball burst from its mouth and I hastily leaned back. Breathing hard, I steeled myself to run.

* * *

I winced as I felt the burn marks on my face melt away under the careful touch of my healing spell. What had first appeared to be a single tunnel turned out to be a labyrinth, the whole thing laced with traps in the form of those fire-spewing statues. As much as I hated to admit it, the armor that Sheogorath gave me kept away most of the damage from the flames.

Stumbling down the stairs at the end of the maze, I pushed open the door at the bottom as quietly as I could. On the other side was a large chamber. A bridge spanned the room, and on it two Mazken guards were waiting. I aimed and shot them down. Their bodies hit the chamber floor with a loud clattering sound. I cringed, waiting to see if anyone would appear to investigate the noise. No one did. When I was reasonably sure I was safe for the moment, I kept going up a flight of stairs and over the bridge.

On the other side of the bridge was a smaller chamber lit by flickering torches. It appeared to be a dead end. I glanced around, frowning. Had I taken a wrong turn somewhere? Back in the fire-trap maze, maybe? If so, why had Syl posted guards nearby? As far as I could see, there was nothing of importance in the room.

There was a rumble and a loud grinding sound. Suddenly a panel in the back wall slid down and two Mazken leapt out to attack me. I shot down the first before she could get close. The second swung a mace at my head. I ducked and kicked out one of her unarmored knees. Before she could scramble to her feet, I shot an arrow through her neck. With both of them dead, I climbed through the passage they had appeared from.

On the other side was a winding hallway that led down to a small room. Old purple tapestries covered the dark stone walls. All of the chamber's furnishings had been piled up against the door on the other side of the room and into a short barricade across the center. Drawing an arrow, I shot down one of the waiting Mazken before she even noticed that I was there.

I heard the sound of a bowstring being drawn back and ducked behind the doorway to avoid the arrow that a second Mazken shot at me. Nocking another arrow, I stumbled into the room. She fired again and I dodged before firing back. She cried out, dropping out of sight behind the makeshift barricade. I lowered my bow.

As I walked further inside, avoiding the silver bowls and goblets that lay scattered over the floor, I saw that the barricaded door was, in fact, the _only_ door. I moved the chairs and overturned tables aside and tried to open it. No good. The damn thing was barred from the other side. I stepped back, pursing my lips. There had to be some way to get through. I looked around the room again, searching the floor and the alcoves around the walls for any kind of trapdoors or secret passages. Sure enough, I felt a button set into one of the walls, nearly invisible against the stone blocks. When I pressed it a panel in the wall slid down, revealing yet another passage.

I couldn't say I was really surprised at the number of traps and secret doors Syl had throughout the place. She wouldn't have lived up to her reputation of paranoia without them.

The tunnels led further and further down, barely lit by dim green flames. Outlines of twisted statues were barely visible at the edges of my vision and the sight of them made me shiver. In the distance I heard voices and armored footsteps. I readied an arrow. There was a flight of stairs ahead. I climbed them and shouldered open the door.

Below was a large chamber. A Mazken waited inside, as well as a Bosmer in similar, if not more elaborate, armor. Syl. I drew back the arrow, and–

The Mazken looked up, her eyes fixing on me. "Your Grace!"

She fell, my arrow sticking out of her throat. Syl saw me, her eyes narrowing. When I fired again, she ducked behind a nearby pillar. Dropping my bow, I drew my sword and hurried down toward her. When the Duchess reappeared, she hefted a massive, spiked hammer. I froze.

"You'll be but another notch in my hammer!" She shouted, swinging it at my head. I ducked and spun out of the way. I wasn't so lucky with her next strike. I managed to dodge the full weight of the blow, but the spikes still slashed across my upper arm. Gasping, I leapt back and looked down at the damage.

An ugly red gash cut across the skin, the spikes having torn through the armor. But, as I watched, the edges of the tear fluttered, stretching and looking almost like butterfly wings before sealing closed again.

When Syl ran at me, her face contorted with rage and her hammer raised high over her head, I stabbed her in the stomach with my blade. Her eyes bulged. The hammer fell from her hands, cracking the stone floor when it made contact with it. The Duchess stumbled back. Her lips were parted and a thin trail of blood trickled over them. She collapsed, dead at my feet.

I pulled out my knife. Steeling myself for what I was about to do, I knelt down beside the corpse.

* * *

Sheogorath, Arctus, and several Mazken were waiting by the altar in the Sacellum when I returned. Passing them, I dropped Syl's blood-drenched heart onto the altar. The instant it touched the surface, it burst into emerald flames and was gone.

"Once again has the Ritual of Accession come full circle!" Arctus cried. "The heart of Syl has been consumed by Arden-Sul's will, and the Demented welcome you with open arms. I now declare you to be Duchess of Dementia of the Shivering Isles! May your wrath and anger be your guide."

He bowed and stepped back. Sheogorath clapped me hard on the shoulder of the arm that had been injured in the fight. I winced.

"You've done it!" He crowed. "The Ritual is complete, and you've survived! Oh, who'd have thought? Now, onto other–"

"Wait! I must speak!"

I looked around to see Thadon entering the sacellum with a host of Aureal guards.

"Halt! Cease! Desist!"

Sheogorath glared at the Duke. "Thadon, how dare you interrupt me? Only _I _interrupt me. Like just then. I'm speaking with someone. We'll talk later. Or not. When is later, exactly? Not now, I'm sure of that. Guards. I think Thadon forgot how to use the door. Kindly show him out. Before I forget myself."

The guards all looked at each other, including the Aureals.

Thadon looked around at the small assembly, blinking in confusion. "Syl… my… Syl is dead? This can't be right? Is this right? What have you done? Have you done this?"

"Hold your tongue, little Duke, _or I'll tear it from your mouth,_" Sheogorath growled.

The Duke's gaze suddenly turned on me. "But this… stranger?" Someone new? From somewhere else? Not here. I'm sure of that. I don't understand. Or I can't."

"Calm yourself, Thadon. You're making my teeth itch. You still hold your office. I suggest you see to your duties."

"Ridiculous!" The Duke scoffed. "You can't do this! Although… you're omnipotent. Or just tall. It's one of the two, I'm sure. And a fool!"

Sheogorath's golden eyes flashed. "_Fool? _Visionary! Change is in the air, Thadon. Breathe it deep! Bathe in its scent! Bottle it up. Save some for later."

"Order approaches. It's taken the Fringe already. With Order clothes and Order hats! And you speak of "change"?" Thadon snapped.

"Change will preserve us! It is the lifeblood of the Isles. It will move mountains! It will mount movements!"

The Duke of Mania watched the Madgod with cold eyes.

"No. No, certainly not. This isn't good. I'm sure it's bad. I can't do this anymore. No more."

"Then go, Thadon," Sheogorath said, shooing him away. "Have your Greenmote. Take a bath. But leave before I decorate my throne with your insides."

Backing away with a mocking bow, the Duke told him, "Yes, that's it. I'll go. Away. Far away. Working for them is like working for us, but without all the dying."

All of the Mazken and Aureals present drew their weapons. Sheogorath waved his hand to stop them.

"No! Let him go!"

Thadon stopped and looked over his shoulder at us, smirking. "I go to Jyggalag. I give myself to him, as a priest of Order. This isn't done, Madgod. I think it's just started."


	9. Chapter 9: Ashes

After Thadon left the sacellum, Sheogorath turned to look at me with a wry smile.

"Wondering why I let him go, aren't you?" He asked. "I can see it in your face. Mostly in the eyes. I may take those from you when this is done."

He reached out toward my face and I cringed away. I did _not _want him to touch me.

He ignored my discomfort. Instead, he crowed, "This has _never _happened before! The ruler of Mania turning traitor? Unprecedented! But different is good. A new act in this play. Maybe we're on to something here. We'll see how it plays out. It can't be worse than what's happened before."

"If you say so," I muttered.

"I do. I did. And I won't say it again. But that's enough about that. You're the ruler of Dementia! Just look at you. You're positively beaming!"

I glared at him.

Fishing around in his pocket, Sheogorath pulled out a ring set with a purple gem that stuck out in several sharp spikes. Holding it out to me, he said, "The Ring of Lordship, a symbol of your new station. Symbols are important. They carry weight in this Realm, and others. You would be well served to remember that."

After a moment of hesitation, I took it and slipped it onto my finger. Hopefully I wouldn't stab myself with it.

"What about the Fringe?" I asked.

"He was right about that. I can feel it. In My bones. The little ones." Sheogorath turned and began walking toward the door leading back down to the city. I followed.

"The Greymarch has swept over the Fringe," he continued, shaking his head. "Order gathers its forces there as we speak. And I _hate _when people gather forces in My Fringe! You'll need to put an end to that. Stop them. My armies should already be there, but I want you to see what you can do to help. If they continue to marshal their forces there, we won't be able to contain them. Make sure they can't!"

* * *

As I trudged up the road, I thought about over the parting words Sheogorath had given to me before I left.

"_If you can__'__t, everyone is going to die. No pressure._"

That was really nothing new, was it?

I didn't immediately go to the Fringe. Instead, I took a detour back to Fellmore. As much as I knew that seeing her like that would hurt me, I had to know that she was still all right. The village was far too close to the Fringe and the encroaching army of Order. If she was hurt because of this, more than she already was…

When I knocked on the door, she answered. She looked somewhat inquisitive, but distant, just like she had last time.

"I know you don't remember me," I said quietly. "Again. But, I just–"

My words were abruptly cut off by the sound of a gasp and suddenly she pulled me into her arms. I shook as she held me tight against her.

The she pulled back, gingerly touching my sleeve with a look of horror. I'd nearly forgotten that I was still wearing the Raiment.

"What are you wearing?" She gasped, staring at me with wide eyes.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does matter, Mara." She brushed anxiously brushed some loose strands of hair away from my face and shook her head. "The longer you stay the more of you he owns. You have to fight him. Sweetheart, you need to get out while you still can."

I glanced away. "It's too late for that."

Ma cupped her hand under my chin and turned my face so that I was looking at her again.

"It's never too late," she said. Her gray eyes bored into mine with a sharp intensity. "Not for you, darling. You can't let him win, do you hear me? He will _kill_ you if you let him."

* * *

I stepped through the gate leading from the Isles proper into the Fringe. The light from the sky was dim, filtered by the heavy cloud cover overhead. I looked around in disbelief. Everything was so different from the last time I had been there. All the plants were dead. The spikes of Order crystals rent the ground in every direction. Everything was just… _gray_. Ashes drifted through the air around me. In the distance I saw a single light. Squinting, I saw it came from a stone tower in the middle of Passwall. I thought I saw purple fire licking over the tower's sides. I made my way down the hill. With every step I took, puffs of dry dust rose from the ground beneath me.

As I finally made it into town, I looked around. The whole place seemed deserted. No, not quite completely deserted. Through the buildings I could see a host of Mazken warriors running from… something.

"Fall back!" I heard a voice shout. "Mazken, retreat! Fall back to the town center! Move!"

That was when I finally saw what they were running from: Knights of Order. A _lot _of them.

I hurried forward, drawing my bow, and knocked down one of the closest Knights with a shot to its head. Seeing it was incapacitated, the Mazken turned and finished hacking it apart before standing to face the rest. I picked off the ones at the fringes of the skirmish, not wanting to hit any of the soldiers.

When the Knights all lay in shattered pieces scattered over the ground, the Mazken's leader approaches me. As she came near, she seemed to notice the ring Sheogorath gave me. Her eyes widened.

"Your Grace," she gasped, bowing deeply. "The situation is grim. Passwall is under attack. We are outmatched and outnumbered."

I looked around again at all the destruction. "What happened here?"

"Last night, as dusk fell, the spire at the center of town became active." She pointed up to the tower beacon, which was still burning. "Soon after, the area around it began to crystallize and change. It wasn't long after that the Knights came."

"How did no one notice that thing before it went off?" I asked, feeling perplexed.

The Mazken shook her head. "It was believed to be a monument from times past, but its true purpose appears to be more sinister. It appears to be a power for these invaders. A… portal, or some sort of gate. I don't know. If we cannot disable or destroy it somehow, I do not think that we can stop this invasion."

Glancing around at what few soldiers there were left, I noticed with some surprise that they were all men. And there weren't many of them either.

"Are these soldiers the only ones you have left?" I asked, shocked.

"Unfortunately, Your Grace. I've been losing Mazken with each attack and I'm down to nothing but men. We are pinned down here. If we lose, the Gates of Madness will fall."

And my mother not long after. The thought twisted my stomach in a painful way.

"If the Gates fall, the enemy will flood into the Isles," she continued. "We will be powerless to stop them. Now that you've arrived, perhaps we can slow them down. Even though I have served with these Mazken for decades, as the Duchess of Dementia, it is your right to command the troops." Indicates the few soldiers, she finished with a sigh, "Command them if you will, or leave it to me. Either way, make haste. Our time is short."

"I trust your judgment." More than I trusted my own, anyway.

The Mazken bowed again, smiling. "I thank you for your trust. In your name and for the sake of the Shivering Isles, I shall not disappoint you." She turned to the soldiers. "Mazken! Form up! For the sake of your sorry male hides, move! _Move!_"

The Mazken scrambled back into position and I knocked another arrow. In the distance I could hear the distinct sound of heavy, metallic footfalls.

"Here they come!"

I shot one and it slammed back into a wall of Order Crystals, both shattering upon impact. Another Mazken fell, his stomach torn open by one of the Knights' swords.

"Back to your positions!" The general shouted at the others when they began to waver in fear. "Don't break ranks. Hold!"

The rest of the skirmish was short and bloody. Several more Knights tried to swarm us, and there were injuries, but we lost no one else.

When it was over, the general stood in the middle of the remains of the fight, breathing hard. Her mace hung limp in her hand. "Victory is ours… for the moment. But this battle will not end until we find a way to shut the spire down."

"How exactly are we supposed to do that?" I asked, lowering my bow.

"I am not certain." At my look of dismay, she added, "But do not lose heart. I have an idea. The ruins of Xeddefen run under Passwall. The entrance to the south of the town has been sealed for centuries. One of my scouts reported that the ruins have been opened recently and a number of these Knights are now guarding the entrance."

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"If we attempt to assault Xeddefen, Passwall will be overrun and we will lose the Fringe. Additionally, our forces are dangerously thin. We have no idea what opposition may await us inside. A frontal assault is not an option."

I sighed. "So you think I should go."

She smiled. "Your insight is impressive. While we draw their attention here, you should be able to slip inside Xeddefen. Once inside, search for the source of the Spire's power. It must be underground somewhere. Once you find it, destroy it. Good luck, Your Grace. May the voice of the hidden guide you to the way."

I snuck out of town through the swamp. Once I had passed the building, I saw the true extent of the battle. The bodies of all the Mazken that were killed in the initial attacks lay on the ground or face-down in the water. There were so many of them. Shaking my head, I picked my way through and climbed up the hill on the other side. Crouching down at the top, I watched from my perch as several Knights approached. I shot them down without hesitation and kept going.

The ruin of Xeddefen was surrounded by a high, crumbling wall. Their stones were brown with a thick layer of dust. As I hurried through, I had to dodge to avoid being impaled on the Order crystals that burst from the ground all around me. The wind howled overhead, blocked down below by the high walls. At the ruin's very center was a door set into the wall, guarded by a Knight of Order. I shot it down and quickly stepped inside.

The tunnels beyond the door were so dark that I could barely see where I was going. Ahead, I saw a fire pit surrounded by the bodies of some of those froglike monsters I'd seen around the Isles. As I passed by, Order crystals rose up from the corner with a loud, metallic shriek. They impaled one of the corpses and lifted it high into the air. More crystals broke through the walls and floor as I kept walking.

Up the passage, I heard the sound of marching feet. I quickly hid in the corner and held my breath as a large group of Knights hurried past. I felt my heart sink. There were still so many of them. The Mazken weren't going to hold out for much longer. I had to hurry.

* * *

The very bottom of the ruin was even darker still. Ahead was a light. I approached cautiously to see a giant obelisk through a metal grate. A priest of Order tended to it, guarded by several Knights. I looked around for a way to get into the chamber below.

Behind me I heard the sound of quiet footsteps. Whirling, I drew my bow.

The Redguard held up his hands. "It's… it's you! I remember you. What are you doing down here? How did you get past the Knights?"

It was… Shelden. Shelden, the so-called mayor of Passwall.

I lowered my bow and narrowed my eyes. "How did _you?_"

His voice was bitter as he told me, "When they attacked I ran from Passwall. They didn't say a word, they just started killing! The screams! By the staff, you can't imagine the screams!" He shuddered. "Felas and I slipped down here thinking that we'd be safe, but no! We landed right in the middle of them! Felas ran off with them and left me to die! Me! That ingrate! Disloyal cur! Imagine, leaving _me _here all alone!"

I rolled my eyes.

"So why haven't you tried to escape?" I asked him.

"Every time I look for a way out, I get twisted around and end up back here. But I'm too smart for them." Right. "You seem to have no trouble, though." He gestured to me. "Look at you! Barely a scratch! You'd be the perfect person to protect me."

Divines give me patience.

Still, he kept rambling. "This place is a nightmare! Knights everywhere, these priests, and whatever they've done to Felas. Listen. Those people in Passwall need me. Can you imagine how they'd ever get along if I died down here?"

"Either stay here or follow. I don't care," I said.

"I'll do what I can to help. I… I like to hurt things. Maybe I can hurt these damned knights."

I pointed at him. "If you're going to follow me, shut up." When he started to say something, I glared at him and he fell silent.

I started to walk away, and Shelden followed close behind. Rounding the corner, we descended a set of stairs. The Knights looked up at our approach, hearing Shelden's footsteps. I grimaced. Shelden dashed off before I could stop him. The Knights rushed forward and I fought them back, kicking one down the stairs to shatter. When they were all dead, I shot down the priest maintaining the obelisk.

Ripping one of the crystalline hearts from the Knights, I threw it into the vortex at the spire's heart. The instant it hit the whole thing exploded. I ducked to avoid the flying shards.

Suddenly the floor beneath me began to shake and I nearly fell over. I looked around in horror as, with a loud _crack, _a chunk of the ceiling fell some feet away. The destruction of the spire had upset the ruin's stability and the whole place was going to fall down on top of me. Shelden reappeared at that moment, dashing for the stairs, and I hastily followed behind. All around me the walls cracked and groaned. Part of the ceiling had fallen ahead, the remains littering the hall in massive chunks. I scrambled over the pieces and kept going.

I finally managed to get ahead of Shelden. Slamming my fist against a button set into the wall, I saw a gate at the top of a nearby set of stairs. Both of us raced for the opened passage, but the gate banged down behind me, blocking Shelden from continuing. He kicked it in frustration.

"I don't think this thing is going to open again." Glaring at me through the bars, he snapped, "You are the _worst _escort in history. I'll find another way out. Get going!"

I turned and ran, narrowly avoiding being crushed by a falling wall.

The passage continued into a large chamber. At the bottom of the stairs were several of the Knights. They saw me. Drawing their swords, they charged. Before I could do anything, one of the large pillars along the hall's edge fell, crushing the Knights beneath the chunks of stone. I hurried down the stairs and across the chamber, barely dodging the crumbling bits of ruin that fell around me and I climbed over the wreckage. At the other side, I ascended yet another set of stairs.

"Hey, is that you? I hear something over there…"

Turning, I saw Shelden standing on the other side of a grate nearby. Upon catching sight of me, he put his hands on his hips with a satisfied smirk.

"Well, look at this," he mocked. "_I_ found the easy road. How are things going over there?"

I slammed my fists against the bars. "_Shelden!_"

He gave me a mock salute and disappeared from view. Snarling, I dashed off as well.

Spikes of Order crystals had begun to rip their way out of the rubble at a violent rate, closing off entire tunnels behind me. I was forced into little more than a crawl as I clawed my way through tunnels that were blocked up nearly to the ceiling. At any moment the ruin would finally give way completely and I would be buried alive.

Then, ahead I saw a door. The way out? Breathing hard, I put on a burst of speed and slammed into it, forcing it open. I tumbled out and found myself sitting in water. The door had led out into the swamp. Behind me, the ruin gave one last, loud groan and finally collapsed on itself.

Shaking with exhaustion and shivering from the cold, I got to my feet and slowly made my way back toward Passwall. It started to rain as I walked, and the droplets wetted down the ashes that covered the ground.

When I arrived, the Mazken were finishing off the last few Knights. The general hefted her mace and turned to look at me as I approached.

"Your Grace! You… You're alive!" She stared at me with wide eyes. "Truly, you are the greatest warrior ever to hold the seat of Dementia!"

"I doubt that," I grumbled. The fastest, maybe, though I doubted that as well. Everything hurt…

She ignored my objection and went on, "I was certain that no one could survive the spire's collapse, but here you are! By the Staff, you are more than worthy to lead us." Looking around, she said ruefully, "I fear that our work is not yet done. The area is still overrun with Knights that were not destroyed in the spire. You should return to the Palace and speak with Sheogorath. Ask him how he plans to defend this realm."

Her bitter tone caught me off guard. Still I nodded to her and began my walk back toward the Isles.


	10. Chapter 10: Gatekeeper

"News of your success in the Fringe precedes you," Sheogorath said when I entered the throne room. Before I could relay the Mazken's question about protecting the Isles, he went on, "To further cement the victory I have an important task for you to perform. You will seek the assistance of Relmyna Verenim in Xaselm to Rebuild the Gatekeeper. You remember the creature you killed to get in here?"

"Vividly." Well, there was her answer.

He drummed his fingers against his cane. "Good. With the Gatekeeper restored and Xedilian in operation, we won't have to worry about anything getting _in_. Things already here are another matter. You'll need to speak with Relmyna. She'll help you with your task. Strange woman. Has some unusual tastes. Tell her you're working for Me." The Daedric Prince let out a low chuckle. "She'd do anything for _Me_, that little minx."

"Relmyna…" I frowned. "Who is she, exactly?"

"A powerful Sorceress," he explained. "Maybe a genius. And a complete lunatic. All in all, my kind of person."

Of course.

"I brought her to My Realm so she could continue to study her "sixth element." Honestly, I didn't know there were five already. She's a bit obsessed with it. And with Me. Makes dealing with her difficult. You shouldn't have any problems, though. No one likes you that much."

Giving him a curt nod, I turned on my heel and marched toward the palace's doors. Angry tears stung in my eyes. No, there _wasn__'__t _anyone who liked me that much. Everyone who had was either dead or couldn't remember me.

* * *

Xaselm sat halfway between the Mania and Dementia parts of the Isles, near the gate leading back into the Fringe. Climbing over the hill, I looked down at the ruin in the settling twilight. It consisted of a walled compound of several moss-covered stone buildings. Sliding down, I approached cautiously.

The courtyard was lit by several torches. In the firelight I saw what looked like several zombies milling about. I drew back an arrow. One turned, seeming to hear the sound, and growled. I quickly shot it down, along with the others nearby.

Ahead, a set of stairs led up to a massive door set into the side of the hill. Tugging it open, I slipped inside.

Statues of daedra lined the tunnels beyond. As I passed by, one spat out a fireball in my direction. I jumped aside and barely avoided being roasted alive by it. Ducking to the side, I slipped down another passageway.

The halls I found myself in were lit by large, iron braziers that hung down from the ceiling. The walls were covered with old, purple tapestries. Another one of the zombies blocked the passage ahead. I shot it and gingerly stepped over the body. As I did, I noticed that it wasn't really a zombie at all. It wasn't rotting. An iron collar was fastened around its neck and there were strange designs carved into its skin. It more resembled the Gatekeeper, only smaller. Relmyna had created them to guard her ruin, then.

The further down in the ruin I got, the more I gradually began to realize what Sheogorath had meant by "unusual tastes." One of the side rooms had several bodies hanging from the ceiling, the corpses cut in strategic places so that the blood collected in bowls that had been placed on the floor below. Another held a zombie hound fighting some kind of enormous, shambling bone creature. As I passed, I heard the creature rip the dog in half.

Passing through a door, I heard an agonized scream. I crouched low, drawing back an arrow, and crept along the hall. The screams continued, along with broken, desperate pleas for mercy. As I got closer to the source of the cries, I heard another voice.

"Does this hurt more or less than last time?" The voice asked. All I heard were sobs in response. Rounding the corner, I froze at what I saw.

A Dunmer woman dressed all in black stood before a cage set into the wall. She seemed to be writing something on a piece of paper. Beyond the bars, a naked woman writhed on the floor.

"Hey!" I shouted, hurrying forward. "What is this?"

The mer, who was obviously Relmyna, whirled around. Her blood-red eyes narrowed at the sight of me.

"_You!_ I remember you. You're the adventurer who slew my Gatekeeper, are you not?"

"You're damn right I am. I needed to get into the Isles," I snapped at her.

"The ends justify the means, do they?" She sneered. "You'll pay for that, one day. Now, by all means, come right in. Walk in here as if you own the place. By what authority do you disturb me?"

"Sheogorath wants you to do something for him."

She sniffed haughtily. "I see. Sheogorath is too important to come on his own account? He sends his mortal lackey?"

"_I__'__m no one__'__s lackey_," I snarled.

"Well, then. I trust my servants didn't give you too hard a time getting in here." She laughed coldly. "What is it Lord Sheogorath requires of me?"

"He wants you to make a new Gatekeeper," I said.

Her brows shot up in response. "Oh? Does he now?"

"Yes. He does."

"Fine. If it be my Lord's will, then it is also my own." Her eyes grew hard and bitter. "But I am too distraught over the death of my child to return to his womb. This you must do."

I stared at her. She wanted me to do _what?_

Sighing, she told me, "You will travel to the Gardens of Flesh and Bone. There you will gather mystical components needed for the ceremony. Go fetch me Blood Liqueur, Osseous Marrow, Dermis Membrane, and Essence of breath."

"I have no idea what those things even are, let alone how to collect them. You're going to have to be more specific than that."

"Are you not the exalted Duchess?" Relmyna snapped at me. "Slayer of the great Gatekeeper? Champion of our mighty Lord Sheogorath? I'm sure you'll be able to find these things. If not, perhaps Sheogorath's faith in you is misplaced."

When I continued to stare at her wordlessly, she gritted her teeth and hastily scribbled something down onto a piece of paper. Shoving it into my hands, she said, "Go now. You try my patience. And take this key. It will allow entry into the Gardens and give you direct access to my Sanctum."

* * *

The gates into the Gardens were still unlocked when I arrived. Jayred and I must have been the last ones to enter before I killed the first Gatekeeper. I passed through the courtyard and unlocked the door on the other side using the key Relmyna gave me.

At first the ruin beyond the door resembled Xaselm. Similar tapestries draped the walls. Soon I entered a large chamber. Before I could take more than a few steps I heard a crack above me. I hastily jumped back just as part of the ceiling fell right where I had been standing. I coughed and waved my hand to try to dissipate the resulting cloud of dust. Grumbling, I climbed over the rubble and kept going, more cautious than before.

There was a door at the chamber's right side. Beyond was a small room. Part of the wall had caved in, revealing a tunnel lit by glowing mushrooms. I climbed up to it and stepped inside.

Torches lit my way as I walked along the twisting, root-lined tunnels. I pushed some vines aside and was suddenly grateful that my hands were covered. The likelihood that anything and everything in the place was dangerous was very high. As I walked along a thick root, I looked down to see a patch of large flowers below. They seemed to glow from within. The petals were translucent and lined with red veins. Relmyna had mentioned them in the note as the Dermis Membrane.

Gripping the roots, I swung down and dropped to the floor. Kneeling before the plants, I retrieved several of the petals. Then I got back to my feet and kept walking.

* * *

Retrieving the Osseous Marrow was easy enough. It grew in some kind of tree-like set of bones in one of the tunnels. But as I walked into the next set, I knew there was a problem. There were several different passages leading off from where I stood. I looked at each, unsure of which way to go.

That was when I heard a sound, like a soft sigh. Turning, I saw a wisp of green light floating up the tunnel. I followed the light, listening to the sound of the sighing breaths that accompanied it.

Soon I was so turned around that I wasn't sure which way I'd come from anymore. I had no idea how deep into the tunnels I was. Other passages turned off of the one I followed. I kept following the light at a hurried pace, running at times to keep up with it. If I lost it, I wasn't sure if I could ever find my way back out.

Turning a corner, I saw a swirling vortex of green light ahead. The center of the labyrinth. The breath I had followed merged with it. When it did, I heard it let out a long, gasping sound. Stepping forward, I pulled out a small vial and collected some of the light. It swirled around inside as I pocketed it.

Now I just had to find my way out.

I climbed up a nearby tunnel and prayed I was going in the right direction. At the top, I saw a door. Relief flooded through me and I hurried to open it. On the other side were more of the tunnels that quickly led back out into the ruin proper again. In the distance, I heard what seemed to be a sluggish, dripping noise. The sound sent cold shivers down my spine.

To my left another wall crumbled. I dodged the falling pieces. As I descended a set of stairs and pushed a button to open the next door, I rolled my eyes. Surely Relmyna could stand to keep the place in some kind of decent condition.

As the door opened I was hit with the overwhelming scent of blood. I staggered back, gagging, and covered my mouth. The small chamber on the other side of the doorway was filled with a deep pool of blood. On the other side I saw the fountain that Relmyna had written about. She said she wanted the fresh stuff… and that meant I had to get over to the fountain itself.

Grimacing, I stepped into the pool. The blood came up to my knees. The Raiment completely covered my legs, at least, and I was sure it wouldn't seep through. I held my breath and waded through to the fountain. Unstoppering another vial, I took some of the blood that trickled out.

That was the last ingredient. Climbing out of the blood-filled room, I made my way toward the exit.

* * *

Relmyna was in a small chamber deep in her work area of Xaselm when I returned. Two of the stiched-together bodies lay on tables at the back of the room. Beside her was another table covered in various sharp implements. Once again, she was taking notes.

I cleared my throat. The incessant scratching of her quill abruptly stopped.

"You have returned with all the components?" She asked me.

"Yes." The blood had almost refused to come out of the Raiment. Luckily the smell was gone. Mostly.

"Excellent. All that remains is to choose the body parts." Snapping her fingers, she indicated the hall and I followed her out of the room.

"… Body parts?" I asked, feeling uneasy.

She nodded. As we walked, she explained, "Fearing one day someone might manage to kill my child, I have been preparing a new body. I've created versions of each appendage, with various enhancements. You must choose one of each."

"Does it matter which?"

"No. I am attached to them all. Artist's prerogative."

She led me into another small room. As she'd said, there were several versions of each portion of the Gatekeeper's body. Most of the parts, such as the arms and heads, hung from the chamber's walls. The legs were stretched out on slabs in the center of the room.

"Select one pair of legs, one left arm, right arm, torso, head, and heart. Tell me when you have made your selections."

Wrinkling my nose, I walked around and examined all the parts. Some of the pieces had obvious differences, such as the head with the metal plates bolted in as opposed to the one with odd designs carved into the skin, or the arm that was really just a sword versus the ones that were a spiked mace or an axe. Others I wasn't so sure about. I didn't ask Relmyna about them. I wasn't in the mood for a confrontation at the moment. Besides, I was certain the damn thing would work just fine no matter what I picked.

"Don't take all day making your choices," she snapped from behind me.

Angrily blowing a strand of hair out of my face, I indicated the parts I wanted. Relmyna whistled, and several of the zombie-creatures marched down the stairs and grabbed the pieces.

Clapping her hands together, she said, "Now, we travel to the statue of our Lord in the Fringe. There we will perform the ceremony. Make haste!"

Relmyna and I soon arrived at the Fringe. We stopped before the statue between Mania's and Dementia's gates. She glanced over at me.

"Shall we start the ceremony?" She asked me.

I took a deep breath. "Do it."

Relmyna waved her hand and a circle at the center of the area, in a burst of light, turned into a pool of swirling blue-green liquid.

"First, place the Gatekeeper's body into the Cistern of Substantiation." She snapped her fingers and the construct servants dumped the pieces into the cistern. She then looked skyward. "At the beginning of the worlds were five. Fire, Water, Earth, Air, and Light. Darkness turned into day, the void took form."

Thunder rumbled overhead. I started at the sudden sound and looked up at the sky as well. Clouds rolled in, blocking the sky and turning everything an eerie shade of purple.

"Hidden away by virtue of its own self-awareness was the sixth," Relmyna continued, "containing within it the five which birthed it. Flesh! Meat with the desire to consume like Fire..."

Lightning cracked again, reflected in the whirling surface of the pool.

"Place the Dermis Membrane into the cistern," she commanded.

Cautiously stepping forward, I fished the petals out and dropped them in. The instant they made contact with the surface, the liquid flashed with light again. As she went on with the ceremony, I put the different ingredients in when she called for them.

"And last, the light of Flesh, the illumination of Soul – perception, thought, memory, imagination…" Waving her hand again, a strange creature appeared at Relmyna's side. It looked almost human, but… wrong. Pointing to the Cistern, she continued, "I summon thee, walker in Flesh! Flesh of true Flesh! From those waters of Oblivion which sire thy kind. Come to this altar. Join with this body. Quintessence of Flesh joined with Essence of Flesh. Absolute in mortal. Immortal bound to contingent."

The atronach, and I was fairly sure that's what it was, stepped into the pool and vanished beneath the surface. Thunder boomed, louder than ever. Relmyna gestured toward me.

"Stand clear of the Cistern. Over here by me."

I did, watching the Cistern with some apprehension. The wind whipped violently around us, bitingly cold. It tugged my hair into my face, and I brushed back the strands. What would happen now?

"Honored Daedra," Relmyna shouted, "fear not they abasement! Thou shalt be the Holy in this Temple. I bind thee, Atronach, to this body, henceforth Gatekeeper of the Shivering Isles!"

An explosion of light and blue fire erupted from the Cistern, knocking me off my feet. Wincing, I looked up to see the new Gatekeeper rise up from the pool. It seemed to stare down at us, even though it had no eyes.

"My child," Relmyna breathed. "It is time to fulfill your destiny. Stand guard in this land against all those who seek entry not bearing the mark of Sheogorath's favor. You shall know them by the coldness in their minds. A darkness of spirit."

Beneath the sound of the thunder and the roar of the wind I heard what sounded like marching feet. I looked back over my shoulder. Knights.

"Relmyna…"

She looked back as well and saw what I did.

"My child, they are coming. Destroy them!" She cried out to the Gatekeeper. "Show them your true power!"

The Gatekeeper stomped forward and swung his arm, the blade taking out a whole row of the Knights. Relmyna watched proudly for a moment before saying to me, "Watch my child destroy the interlopers, or run to Sheogorath. Either way, tell Him of our doings here. Send Him my tribute… and my affections."

I cringed at the thought. Shooting one last glance at the fight, one the Gatekeeper was clearly winning, I ran back toward the gates.


	11. Chapter 11: Wellspring

"The Gatekeeper has been rebuilt. Last I saw, he was fighting back Knights at the gates," I said when I returned to the palace in New Sheoth.

Sheogorath let out a bark of elated laughter and leaned back in his throne. "A new Gatekeeper! Excellent! We might be onto something with you after all. That should keep out the stragglers."

He seemed about to say something else, but was cut off by the sound of the palace doors banging open. I turned to see an Aureal hurry into the throne room and drop to her knees before the dais. Her bright gold armor was covered in dried blood.

"Lord Sheogorath!" She gasped, out of breath. "I apologize for the intrusion, but you must help us! Order has attacked Brellach and routed us!"

Sheogorath slowly got to his feet. "Well, well. What a turn of events this is! It's new, and I _like _new, even if it's bad. And this is bad, isn't it? My, my…" Suddenly he asked me, "This is a particularly exciting turn of events, is it not?"

I stared at him. People were clearly dying, and he was excited about it? I was about to ask him if he'd lost his mind, but I already knew the answer to that question.

"It's a perfect job for you, my newest and _only _noble in the Realm. If Order has entered my army's stronghold, things have taken a disturbing turn. It means Order has tried subterfuge. Not its strong suit. Amazing! Perhaps things aren't going as poorly as I'd imagined."

"Maybe you missed the part where your army is being killed by Order. I'm not sure how that counts as "not going poorly,"" I ground out.

He waved off my concern. "Hush. You'll want to get all the details from the messenger. Unless you already have. You haven't, have you?" He looked at me with a wary gaze.

"When would I have had time to ask about that?" I snapped. "And why hasn't Jyggalag attacked himself?"

"Well aren't you precious?" Sheogorath patted my head condescendingly and I recoiled to avoid him. "Do you really not know? Haven't you noodled it all through yet? It's because He is Me! I'm Him! We're a bit of each other, really. I won't be here when He arrive because I'll be Him." He started pacing, agitated, and shook his head. "Happens every time. The Greymarch starts, Order appears, and I become Jyggalag and wipe out My whole realm."

"How soon?"

He let out a long sigh. "Soon. Too soon. I can already feel the change beginning. I feel like I'm not quite here. I'm not… over there yet, but I'm not quite _here._" He flexed his fingers. "And I've been having moments of clarity that are quite unlike me. Like now."

That explained a lot.

"And you actually think the change can be stopped?" I asked.

"Stop it? Oh, no. Can't do it. Believe me, I've tried. It never ends well."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Then what's the point?"

"You're still going to stop the Greymarch. Stop Jyggalag– Me – from destroying My Realm."

"What do we do now, then?"

He looked surprised. "Now? Nothing has changed! You deal with this messenger. Make sure my army is secure. You'll need them."

* * *

Brellach was located on the northern part of the Isles, surrounded by hills rolling with brightly colored flowers. A pretty scene for the setting of a fight. I climbed the front steps leading up to the fortress's door. A number of Aureal were standing outside, glancing around anxiously. One of them looked around at my approached and quickly stepped forward, seeming relieved.

"Thank you for coming. I apologize for summoning you. The blame is mine. We've lost control of Brellach. Thadon let them in… We had no idea he would turn on us," she said, her tone bitter. "They captured out commander, Staada, and have her imprisoned somewhere inside. Our first priority must be rescuing her."

"How did they get her?"

The Aureal shook her head ruefully. "Thadon had her called aside, separating her from the group. He meant to divide our numbers when Order entered, making us easier targets. They imprisoned Staada somewhere within Brellach. If they killed her, she could return to us through the Wellspring, so they keep her hostage. If we follow the waters of the Wellspring, we will surely find her."

I glanced at the door and asked, "You said there were Knights of Order in there?"

"Yes. Thadon let them in."

"How many?"

"More than I could count," she told me with a helpless shrug. "It was all we could do to fall back and regroup out here. We must free Staada as soon as possible."

I took a deep breath. "Right. Let's do this."

"Forgive me for saying so, Your Grace," she said, suddenly seeming uncomfortable, "but I find taking orders from the Duchess of Dementia to be… unsettling."

I stared at her. "Well, I'm all you've got left so we'll have to make the best of it, won't we?"

"We shall be right behind you, Your Grace," she said, giving me a short bow.

The Aureal followed me up into the fortress. The halls inside were all lit by braziers that lined the walls. The moment I entered, my eyes immediately fell on the dead Aureal sprawled across the floor. Her blood stained the red carpet beneath her body in darker patches. Squaring my shoulder, I moved on. There was nothing I could do.

Ahead were two sets of stairs. One was blocked by Order crystals. The other, however, was clear, and I quickly led the Aureals down it.

The moment we were down a handful of Knights and a priest of Order attacked us. I shot the priest before he could cast any of his spells. He clawed uselessly at the arrow lodged in his throat while the Aureals quickly cut down the Knights. For all the impracticality of their golden armor, they were holding up fairly well. I supposed that that was just the way of the daedra.

Nearby was a channel that cut across the floor, full of what looked a great deal like molten gold. The fumes that it gave off sparkled slightly in the light. I cautiously stepped toward it to examine it closer. Was that part of the Wellspring that she had mentioned? I'd barely taken a few steps when crystals suddenly burst from the ground beside it. We were running out of time.

We followed the channel of gold further into the fortress, encountering yet more Knights on the way. At the back of one of the chambers we entered was a small area enclosed entirely in crystals. As I approached I saw that there was a small opening that remained uncovered. An Aureal stood inside.

I stepped forward, cautious, and asked her, "Are you Staada?"

She looked up at me, relieved. "Yes. You must set me free!" Before I could do anything, she shook her head and said, "The barrier can't be broken by you. It's too tough… Use the chime! Ring the chime, and that may shatter it!"

I looked in the direction she was pointing. There I saw a large, conical metal chime hanging from the ceiling. Hurrying over, I drew my sword and hit the chime with the hilt. A loud booming sound echoed through the chamber. Turning around, I saw the crystal walls explode. Staada crouched among the wreckage, her arms covering her head to protect herself from the shards of Order crystal. She got shakily to her feet.

"You have my thanks for freeing me," she said, "but… Just who are you?"

I held up the hand wearing the Ring of Lordship for her to see. "The Duchess of Dementia." Unfortunately.

Staada's eyes widened and she dropped into a low bow. "My Lady! I am sorry, I did not realize–"

"Don't. Please don't."

Getting back to her feet, the Aureal looked around. "Where is Thadon? Have you seen him? That traitorous coward."

"There's been no sign of him yet," I told her. "What happened here?"

"Thadon… the snake," she spat. "He showed up, asked for a contingent of guards. Said there was trouble and that we were needed. We were so focused on organizing quickly that by the time we realized he'd let Order in himself, it was too late. We were split up and picked off. But it doesn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters now is the Wellspring. We must reach it at once!"

"The Wellspring keeps being mentioned. What is it?"

"The Welspring of the Aureal. It's what links us to this Realm, where we return to the world from the Waters of Oblivion. If Thadon helps Order sever that link… my kind will be annihilated." She cringed at the thought. "The Realm will be lost to us. We must get to the Wellspring and stop them!"

"How do we get there?"

"The Wellspring is at the heart of Brellach; follow the waters to reach it. I will follow your lead, Your Grace. We shall not fail you."

Once I was sure all the Aureal were following, I led them into the next hallway. That was when I saw that it too was blocked up by crystals. I was about to hit another chime nearby to shatter it when, as one, the Aureal let out choked cries and fell to the floor.

"No! The Wellspring–" Staada managed to gasp before she crumpled as well.

All of them were gone, just like that. I had to finish what we'd started myself.

Hitting the chime, I shattered the crystals barring my way and kept walking. As I did, I crossed one of the channels like before. It was completely dry.

Quietly, I slipped through a door at the end of the passage and descended the stairs on the other side. Unlike before, where crystals only appeared in sparse patches, the whole place was almost entirely covered. Thousands of gray facets glimmered from the walls and even more spires burst out of the floor as I passed by.

The Wellspring itself was in large chamber at the end. Chimes hung above platforms in each corner of the room. The channels led into the center, where a pyramid of crystals blocked off the source. Order priests and Knights milled about and dead Aureal lay strewn about the floor.

Silently, I climbed up one of the platforms. Out of view behind a pillar, I slit the throat of one of the priests and let his body drop to the floor. Then I slammed the hilt of my sword into the chime. At the sound, the Pyramid cracked in places, but no more. Cutting down an approaching Knight, I ran to hit the second and third chimes. More cracks appeared in the surface.

As the echo of the chimes slowly faded, I saw the cracks begin to heal up again. Dodging another Knight, I ran to the last chime and hit it as hard as I could. The pyramid abruptly shattered, revealing the fountain of gold that had been hidden beneath. All around the chamber the dead Aureal rose. Grabbing their swords, they cut down the rest of the Knights in the chamber.

Several of them thanked me for freeing them, despite seeming to have reservations about my being in charge of Dementia. Soon I heard the sound of footsteps from the way I'd entered. Gasps went up from several of the Aureal and I turned to see Staada and the others I'd left behind enter the chamber.

"The Wellspring is restored!" She cried, both surprised and delighted at the sight of the fountain.

Breathing hard, I nodded.

She smiled broadly. "You have saved us. We are forever grateful, your Grace."

"What about Thadon?" I asked.

"No sign of him yet," she said ruefully. "We'll do our best to track him down and deliver him to Lord Sheogorath for a fitting punishment. The traitor _must_ be brought to justice!" Her fists clenched.

"So what happens now?"

"Our warriors will scour the halls of Brellach, removing any last elements of opposition. Then we will immediately return to our duties."

"I'll go, then."

Staada gave me a sharp nod. "Lord Sheogorath will be anxious to hear of our victory, I am sure."

* * *

Something was wrong.

The moment I stepped into the throne room, I felt the tension in the air. It was practically humming with it. Haskill stood near my end of the hall, watching Sheogorath. He didn't even spare a glance my way as I passed.

The Daedric Prince stood at the bottom of the dais, completely rigid. His hands clutched his cane in a white-knuckled grip. As I approached I saw that he was shaking. His eyes, when they rose to meet mine, were too focused.

"Time," he said, his voice low and even. "Time is an artificial construct. An arbitrary system based on the idea that events occur in a linear direction at all times. Always forward, never back. Is the concept of time correct? Is time relevant? It matters not. One way or another, I fear that out time has run out."

A chill crept down my spine. "What do you mean?"

"As I feared it would, My plan has failed. The Greymarch is upon us, and I must go." He sighed. "I thought we had more time. I thought we had a chance. And we were so close…"

Failed. All I could see was my mother, dying. No. No, I couldn't let that happen.

"We haven't failed yet," I said, a hint of an angry growl slipping into my voice.

Sheogorath let out a bark of laughter. "Optimism! How Adorable! I love it! Even at the end, you make me laugh." He instantly sobered. "I'm lying. That wasn't funny at all. No matter. Soon you and everyone else will be dead, and I will be left a mad god, ruler of a dead realm. Again."

"What happens now?"

"What happens is what always has happened – what always _will _happen. I crumble, I fade, the Realm dies. And you with it. Flee while you can, mortal. When we next meet I will not know you, and I will slay you like the others."

Not if I could help it. "What can I do?"

He shook his head. "I had intended to give you my staff, the symbol of My office. But life has gone from it, as it goes from Me. It is now dead wood. A useless twig." He tapped it against the floor. "With the staff, there was hope. But now hope is dead. I am dead. The Realm–"

He suddenly groaned and hunched over. I jumped back and watched in horror as he began to shake violently.

"_The Realm is dead!_ _Sheogorath is dead!__"_ His voice was strangely distorted. He threw his head back. As I watched, a strange light surrounded him and he seemed to grow taller, looming over Haskill and me. Then he roared, "_All shall crumble before Jyggalag!_"

In a flash of light, he was gone.


	12. Chapter 12: Shades

I stared at the spot where Sheogorath had been only moments before. Divines have mercy, that was…

"He is gone, but hope is not lost," Haskill said quietly. "We have a rare opportunity here, but I hesitate to do what must be done."

I looked at him. "Anything."

"If the Throne of Madness remains empty when Jyggalag storms the palace, he will prevail. But there is a chance the throne may not be empty."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm not a Daedric Prince."

"True, but perhaps you can hold the throne… provided that you possess the proper symbol of office. Namely the Staff of Sheogorath. The Staff is the symbol of power in this Realm. He who rightfully holds the Staff may hold the throne of the Shivering Isles."

Or she, in my case.

"Unfortunately," Haskill went on, "when Sheogorath faded, the power of the Staff faded with him. It must now be remade. However, the secrets of its construction are lost."

I rounded on him and spat, "_Lost? _You said there was hope!"

"That which is lost can be found again," he told me, unfazed by my outburst. "There is one being in the Shivering Isles who may be able to assist you in the construction of a new Staff. The ruins of Knifepoint Hollow once served as a great library. There, you will find a door. Behind that door, you will find the answer you seek. Although…"

I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

"I hesitate to guide you towards this path. The secrets of the past will surely aid Jyggalag, but I fear that we have no other choice." He let out a long sigh. "Be mindful of what you find there. The library is a thing of Order, and it will still serve that end. Take this crystal. It contains the power to open the sealed door. Inside, you will find the final remnants of the library."

The steward handed me a small crystal. I held on tightly to it, feeling the faceted edges cut into my palms. This was the last chance.

"How do I find this Knifepoint Hollow?" I asked.

"It is near the core of the Shivering Isles. Follow the setting sun to the border of Mania. Climb the cliff there to the top. At the peak, you will find Knifepoint Hollow."

A Mazken rushed in at that moment, her eyes wide.

"Your Grace! What–"

"I want a troop sent to guard Fellmore. Keep the armies of Order out at all costs. _Now!_" I barked at her. She hurried away and I said in a quieter voice, mostly to myself, "I have a Staff to rebuild."

* * *

Following Haskill's instructions, I found myself at the base of an old, dead tree. Crawling beneath the roots, I found an old door at the very bottom. With some effort, I pushed it aside and quickly slipped inside.

After walking for several minutes, the root tunnels let out into an ancient ruin that looked like it hadn't been touched in millennia. It was so dark that I could barely see where I was going.

At the end of one passage I found a sealed door that hummed with magic. It must have been the one that Haskill spoke of. Pulling out the crystal, I set it into a slot in the center of the door. The moment I did, all the magic drained away and the stone instantly crumbled. Drawing my bow, I stepped inside.

Beyond the door was a tiny chamber that was practically empty, save for a withered man sitting on a crumbling wooden chair at the very center. He stared down at his hands, which rested folded in his lap. I approached warily, my arrow trained on his head. Slowly he looked up at me with dead silver eyes.

"I have been waiting for you, Mara Fides," he said in a voice as cracked and dry as ancient bones.

I drew back the arrow. "How did you know I'd come?"

"This day, as all days before and after, is well known to me. There are no surprises to Dyus of Mytheria. Sheogorath has fallen and you seek the means to foil the machinations of the Prince of Order. You seek the Throne of Madness. However, no mortal may sit upon the throne without the Staff. So here you are in my prison, seeking to supplant the one who placed me here. If you wish to take the place of Sheogorath, then ask me what you will."

I lowered my bow slightly. "Who are you?"

He sighed. "You were expecting a book. An ancient tome filled with the secrets that you seek. But, instead, you have found me. The last remnant. Individuality is an illusion. The details of my existence are no more important than the history of a stone. However, if you insist: I once served as the keeper of the great library of Jyggalag. Contained within its walls were the logical predictions of every action ever taken by any creature, mortal or Daedric." He sounded almost bored. "Every birth. Every death. The rise of Tiber Septim. The Numidium. Everything. All predicted with the formulae found within Jyggalag's library."

"Then what happened to this place?"

"When Sheogorath discovered the library he had it burned, insisting that it was an abomination and that personal choice defied logical prediction. I am all that remains of the knowledge contained within the great library of Jyggalag."

"I've heard enough," I snapped. "Tell me how to rebuild the Staff."

"I can create the physical shell of the Staff, but the divine essence must be gathered elsewhere. But apotheosis is no simple matter and the creation of the staff is no simple task." He shook his head at the thought. "I will require two sacred items in order to complete it."

More things to fetch. Great. "What are these… sacred items?"

"The Shivering Isles hold many secrets, but few remain unseen by mortal eyes. The Staff is a tool of great vision and thus requires the eye of one who has witnessed on of these unseen secrets firsthand. Ciirta resides in the Howling Halls of Mania. Find her and bring me the eye that has seen that which no other has."

"And the other?"

"The trees and branches of this Realm feed from a deep font of madness and mystery. One of the oldest trees, named the Tree of Shades, lies in the halls of Milchar. Milchar is a place of ruin, root, and mania. Go there and bring me a branch of this tree, but be warned: the tree will not surrender its secrets to one who has not earned them. It is said that the tree feeds from waters of the Grove of reflection. The grove can show men who they truly are. Only after facing the truth will the Tree of Shades give up its branches to you."

"So you're saying that, if I get you these things, you can rebuild the Staff?" I asked slowly.

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Only then can I create an appropriate vessel to hold the power that is inherent in the lord of this realm. The Staff may allow you to occupy the Throne of Madness, but understand that such a feat has never been attempted. All sources indicate that you will fail. It is a certainty. However, I also predict that this will not stop you from trying."

"You're damn right it won't."

* * *

Getting Ciirta's eye had been easy enough. She only had the one, right in the middle of her forehead. It made my skin crawl to look at it. I'd cut it out and hurried on my way, wanting to be out of the Howling Halls as quickly as I could. The odd paintings scattered around the temple were… unnerving.

I walked along a long, ruined wall and passed through the first opening I found. Supposedly Milchar was somewhere nearby. When I saw the giant tree, I instantly made my way toward it.

Like Knifepoint Hollow, the tree had a system of tunnels between its roots. Keeping to the shadows, I avoided the few elytra that I saw skulking about. A cluster of thick roots at the very center led down a hole and even deeper into the ground. Grasping them firmly, I climbed down.

Jumping down the last couple of feet, I made my way down the tunnel at the bottom. It was narrower than the others, barely wide enough for me to walk without having to squeeze through. In the distance I thought I heard the steady sound of dripping water. Turning a corner, I saw a dim light ahead.

The tunnel led out into a large, domed hollow filled with plants. At the center of the hollow water dripped down into a shallow pool. In the middle was a standing stone covered with glowing runes. A short tree covered with scraggly branches grew near the edge. That was what I was looking for, I was sure of it.

I cautiously took a few steps forward. My foot had barely touched the water when an explosion of light ripped from the stone. There was a loud roaring sound as the light flew to land on the pool's bank. As it did, a cloud of black smoke rose from where it had made contact. The smell of burning filled the air. I coughed.

"Well, well, well," a voice said from the smoke. "If it isn't the little heroine."

The voice was familiar. Too familiar. The woman who had spoken was still hidden by smoke and shadows. My eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?" I asked.

Even when she finally stepped out into the light, she was shrouded in a thin sort of darkness. But I could still make out the thick, wavy red hair that fell around her pale face and over her shoulders. The gray eyes that stared out at me from the gloom. My breath hitched.

"I'm you," she said. "Or, more accurately: a better, _stronger _version of you."

She stalked around me. I drew my sword, turning to keep her in view. She laughed coldly and spoke several words in a language I didn't understand. And yet… they sounded so familiar, almost like a half-forgotten memory. Why? She flicked her wrist and suddenly her hand was filled with blazing fire. I froze, staring at her in shock. I couldn't… _I couldn__'__t do that_.

"You know nothing," she sneered. "You're weak. Powerless."

Snapping out of my daze, I raised my sword and growled, "We'll see about that."

I dodged the fireball she threw at me and it exploded against the wall. Ducking through the plants growing around the hollow, I tried to keep her in sight. But she was just as fast and quickly slipped away into the shadows. I crouched low, waiting.

Her voice rang out from somewhere nearby, "You are such a failure. Da is dead because you were stupid and wandered too far from home. Ma is trapped here because you wouldn't help her. Martin is dead because he had to fall in love with you. Love is a weakness. It destroyed him, and it will destroy you."

"_Shut up!_"

I jumped out of the bushes just as the fireball struck where I'd just been standing. Whirling to face her, I stepped into a defensive position. My shadow just shook her head, almost pityingly.

I was suddenly knocked backward by an invisible force and landed hard on my back. My sword flew out of reach. As I lay there, gasping for breath, she appeared over me. Kneeling down, she gripped the front of my raiment and dragged me up into a sitting position.

"Don't you understand?" She said. Her voice – _my _voice – was harsh and low. "After all that time in the Guild, after what happened during the Crisis, after what's happening right now. I am what you were always meant to become. You can't run from it. You can't fight it. I am your _inevitability!_"

"Never," I spat.

When I swung my fist at her she caught it. I wrenched her arm around and swung my leg, knocking hers out from underneath her. Rolling out of the way, I snatched up my sword and staggered to my feet. She did as well. Before she could respond, I stabbed her.

Everything went silent, save for the dripping of the water droplets falling into the pool beside us. She stared at me. Then a smile crept onto her face.

Leaning in closer, blood dripping from her grinning lips, she sneered, "It begins."

She crumpled, her sightless eyes staring at the ceiling of the cavern, before fading back into shadowy smoke once more. I stood there, shaking. Dyus had said that the grove would test me by showing me what I truly was, but that _couldn__'__t _be…

Taking a deep breath and shoving the thought from my mind, I sheathed my sword and snapped a branch from the tree. That was what I had come for. That was all that mattered.

* * *

When I returned to Knifepoint Hollow, I saw that Dyus hadn't moved from that spot, despite the door still being unsealed. I suddenly wondered if the man could walk at all. He had to be _ancient_.

"You have the items," he said. Somehow, he seemed almost surprised. Almost. "Contrary to all prediction. Once again, you defy the path set out before you. However, what comes next is now unclear. If you wish to confront what is to come, I shall create the Staff for you. Afterward, you must take it to the seat of power in the Shivering Isles: the Palace of Sheogorath. There, imbue the Staff with power from the Font of Madness. Soak the Staff in the waters of the land, and it will open its full power to you."

He took the branch and the eye from me with pale, trembling hands. As he worked, he murmured to himself, "You have defied the expected and accomplished something that defies all logic. I must contemplate the error in my calculations…"

"My choices are my own."

"Perhaps you are an irregularity," he mused.

"A mistake, you mean," I snapped.

"Yes. Now…" He held out the finished Staff to me. "Take your treasure and leave me."

I snatched it away from him, grimacing when I saw the bloody eye. Trying hard not to look too closely at it, I left the ruins of the library.


	13. Chapter 13: Greymarch

I raced back to the city. Still, in the distance I could see what looked like Knights marching right toward New Sheoth. Haskill actually seemed relieved when I burst into the throne room.

"Ah, you're back," he said, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. "You may have noticed that we have a… bit of a problem."

"What problem?" I asked him.

"You're having a bit of fun with me. Very good. You of course noticed the Font when you arrived in the Palace? The Font of Madness, in the middle of the throne room? The Font which is unaccountably covered with crystals?"

I glanced over to where he was pointing and saw the Order crystals encrusting the tree behind the throne. An icy feeling of dread slipped into my stomach.

"_Shit._"

"The taint appeared only a short time ago," he explained, "but it _has_ spread quickly. I fear that soon we will all be serving a new master. Once the source of Madness has become the Font of Order, Jyggalag has won."

"Not if I can help it," I hissed. Looking back over my shoulder, I asked the steward, "How do I stop him?"

Haskill contemplated the question for a moment. "Somehow the forces of Order have poisoned the Pools of Mania and Dementia that feed the Font. I suspect the traitor, Thadon. Jyggalag has never had an original thought in his existence. Be that as it may, you will have to enter the Fountainhead beneath the Tree and find the source of the poison."

"And what will I find down there?"

"It was Sheogorath's private sanctuary, where he would often meditate amidst the tame Gnarls that tend the roots. Normally the Fountainhead is a peaceful sanctuary, but there's no telling what changes the taint of Order may have wrought. Now I fear that the Gnarls themselves may be accelerating the spread of Order throughout the Tree's roots. Be careful."

"Right." I hurried toward the tree, shouting over my shoulder as I ran, "Get the Mazken and the Aureal to work together. Have them hold off the army as long as they can!"

* * *

The tunnels beneath the Palace were far more extensive than I would have thought. Soon I saw one of the tree creatures, a Gnarl. Sliding down, I drew my bow. Remembering what Haskill had said about these ones possibly being tame, I didn't take the shot. Instead I stayed close behind, waiting to see what it would do.

The Gnarl turned around a bend in the tunnel. The passage was blocked ahead by a twisted combination of roots and Order crystal. The gnarl touched the mass with its spindly, branched hand and the roots shied away, clearing the path. On it went, and I followed.

It turned down another tunnel, and I was about to follow when I thought I heard the sound of faint voices coming from somewhere behind me. The only people down there besides myself had to be working for Jyggalag to poison the font. Crouching low, I slunk down the tunnel branching off in the other direction. Soon the tunnel let out into a cavern with a pool at its center. Gigantic roots hung down from the ceiling and dipped into the water below. Beside the pool, a priest of Order watched as crystals erupted from below the surface.

"Let them drink their fill of Order," he growled. As he laughed harshly, I drew back my arrow and shot him down. The instant he crumpled, the crystals in the pool withered away with a loud, grinding shriek.

As Haskill had suspected, they were poisoning the water. This one had to just be a minor pool. I had to find the ones for Mania and Dementia, and fast.

* * *

I shot down another tainted Gnarl and stepped around the body. The further in I went, the more and more I'd found that were covered in the crystals. The ones that were attacked on sight, as I'd quickly learned. But as I helped clear the passages leading deeper, more and more of the untainted Gnarls began to appear. That was some small comfort, at least.

The Pool of Mania was at the bottom of a massive cavern. Roots big as bridges twisted through the walls and the air. Brightly colored mushrooms grew everywhere, though they looked as though they were dying. Everything had a slightly grayish tinge. The water below was filled with Order crystals. Several priests tended to them.

Climbing out onto one of the roots, I crouched low and aimed an arrow at one of them. He screamed as it buried itself in his chest. The others looked up and I ran as bolts of lightning struck where I had just been standing. I jumped down into the water, hitting the surface with a splash, and started running again. One of the priests was closing in. Whirling around, I drew back another arrow.

She laughed. "Strike me down! My Lord Jyggalag has other servants!"

I mused that it was like fighting the Mythic Dawn all over again as the arrow punched through the forehead of her mask with a _thunk._

The last priest hid himself behind one of the roots. Stopping on the other side, I drew my sword and inched around toward him. He spun to face me, raising his arms above his head menacingly. Before he could cast his spell I stabbed him through the gut. He fell back and the water around him turned crimson.

All around the Order crystals crumbled and the plants returned to their natural brightness. Grabbing one of the roots, I climbed out of the pool. Just one more to go.

As I climbed down the next set of tunnels, I noticed everything begin to grow darker. What little light there was possessed an eerie blue color and came from tiny mushrooms that grew in sparse patches. The roots that lined the walls were more twisted than the ones before. I assumed all those things meant that I was going in the right direction.

Like Mania's, the Pool of Dementia was at the center of a large cavern, but the crystals there were even larger than the ones before. Some stretched up almost to the ceiling. In addition to the priests of Order, I saw several tainted Gnarls milling around.

At my approach, one of the priests looked up. I saw that, instead of a mask, the Bosmer wore a crown of crystal spikes.

Thadon.

"You," he said, his eyes narrowing. "Of course. Sheogorath's assassin."

"I'm no one's, least of all his," I hissed back.

Thadon snapped his fingers and pointed at me. At once the priests all rushed forward. I cut them down as they attacked. The last one managed to shoot a bolt of lightning up the length of my sword as I drew it out of him chest. It raced through me and I fell, shaking, into the water.

When I finally had control of my own limbs again I pushed myself up, coughing out water. With tearing eyes, I looked up to see Thadon walking toward me. Every step he took was measured and full of purpose, so very different from how I'd first seen him in his garden in the palace. His gaze was hard and cold as he stared down at me.

"I see so clearly now what a fool I have been," he told me. "A happy, heedless fool. How he must have mocked me, with my poems, and my painting, and my meaningless revelry. But no more. No more! Instead she is dead at your hand and Sheogorath's command!"

He drew a sword whose blade was crafted of Order crystal. I snatched my own from the water and rolled aside to avoid his blow as he swung it down at me. Scrambling to my feet, I swung at him. He blocked the strike. Tiny, sparking shards of crystal flew off of his blade at the clash.

I feigned an attack. When Thadon moved to block, I sliced my blade through his exposed neck. His crowned head fell into the Pool and his body crumpled at my feet. All around, the crystals disappeared. The Gnarls stood still, as if confused by their absence. With the Pool of Dementia cleared, I ran for the exit.

* * *

The instant I stepped out of the tree Haskill was there, leading me hastily around toward the throne.

"We have no time to lose," he told me as we walked. "Jyggalag's army is almost here."

I wrenched my arm away. "I can do this myself, thank you."

The steward took a step back. Clasping his hands behind his back and nodding slightly, he said, "Of course. My apologizes."

Turning, I hurried over to the Font. It sat behind the throne at the base of the tree. The shimmering waters that poured from it fueled the two channels that ran the length of the main hall. Taking a deep breath, I drew the Staff and dipped its head into the top of the Font.

The instant it passed beneath the surface of the water, I felt the Staff begin to hum with energy. The feeling traveled up the length of the branch and into my arms. It seemed as though my very bones were vibrating with it. My teeth ached and I shook my head to try to clear the buzzing sound that rung in my ears.

As I drew it from the water, the bright light surrounding it dimmed to little more than a faint glow. I breathed a sigh of relief. It had worked.

The palace doors suddenly burst open. I turned to see a Mazken warrior hurry inside.

"My Lady!" She said, breathless. "Autkendo Jansa sent me to find you. She requests your immediate assistance."

"What did she want?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, my Lady. She only said it was a matter of the gravest import to the security of the realm."

"Then take me to her."

I started to follow her when several more Mazken entered the throne room. The one in the lead wore armor covered in irregularly-shaped turquoise stones.

"Jansa?" I asked.

She nodded and gave me a short bow. "My Lady. I'm glad to see you. We have a developing situation that requires your attention."

"What happened?"

"Order," she said distastefully. "An obelisk has activated just outside the Palace. I've ordered my Mazken to engage the enemy. I expect that this is the beginning of the final assault. The cursed usurper Jyggalag himself may even take the field before the end."

So not only was the army attacking from outside, but they'd established a foothold inside the walls as well. My hands clenched tightly around the Staff. The rough bark that still covered its surface dug into my palms.

"What are your orders, my Lady?" Jansa asked, cutting through my thoughts.

"We're finishing this," I told her. "I'll lead the attack myself."

She seemed surprised. Bowing, she said, "It will be our great honor to fight by your side, my Lady!"

I walked outside, the Mazken following close behind. Some other Mazken as well as a host of Aureals were already waiting on the palace steps. Both sides watched each other warily. Below, an Obelisk jutted out of the lawn. It let out a low hum and began to glow.

"Everyone at the ready!" I shouted at the two groups of daedra. Weapons were drawn as they prepared.

The main spire of the obelisk split off with a loud _crack. _From the glowing crevice below, several Knights climbed out and ran for the palace steps.

"Now!"

The Mazken and Aureals all charged down toward them, shouting war cries. The archers stayed in the back near the palace's doors, firing gold or black arrows down on the fight below. I glanced down at the Staff in my hands with some apprehension.

"Time to see just what this can do," I murmured. I aimed the Staff at the Knights. Taking a deep breath, I willed _something _to happen.

A bolt of violet light shot from the eye affixed to the head of the Staff, freezing the Knights in place. The whiplash from the blast nearly knocked me off my feet. Staggering back, I watched the soldiers attack the defenseless Knights, shattering them where they stood. Tiny fragments of crystal hung, suspended, in the air. As the effect wore off they fell onto the grass.

On the other side of the courtyard, a second Obelisk burst from the ground. More Knights appeared, swarming the arrayed soldiers. We'd be overwhelmed soon if I didn't do something.

I hurried over to one of the fallen Knights that hadn't shattered and broke open its chest to pull out the heart inside. Desperately trying not to be hit, I dodged through the skirmish and ran for the second Obelisk. I tossed the heart into the glowing portal at the center of the obelisk. The light died and the Spire fell back onto the base with a loud _crack._

Pointing to one of the Mazken, I shouted, "Grab one of the hearts and get the other Obelisk closed!"

She nodded and ran. Moments later I saw the other Obelisk collapse as well. The Mazken and the Aureal finished cutting down the last of the Knights. Everything was suddenly silent. I took several deep breaths as I glanced around at the damage. We'd lost a few of our own, but–

"My Lady?"

I turned to see Jansa pointing at the sky above the courtyard. A shimmering gray light had appeared in the air, growing brighter. My eyes widened.

"Run!"

A vortex of bright light erupted from its center, hitting the courtyard. There was an explosion and I was thrown backward. When I finally blinked and looked up, the bodies of the Mazken and Aureals lay on the lawn all around me. Every one of them was dead. Grabbing the Staff from where it lay nearby, I staggered to my feet.

A hulking figure stood at the center of the courtyard, facing me. He was tall, taller than even the Gatekeeper. Like the Knights, he was covered entirely in gray crystal armor. Spikes jutted out of his helmet and shoulders in menacing frills. He wielded a sword that was twice as tall as I was.

"_Jyggalag," _I breathed, taking a step back.

He pointed one sharp finger at me and said in a grinding, booming voice, "You hold the Staff, but you are no Daedric Prince!"

"No, I'm not!"

I fired a bolt at him and he roared, charging. He swung his sword and I barely jumped aside in time to avoid the blow that shook the ground beneath my feet when it hit. Whirling, I shot again. The bolt hit his leg. Cracks appeared in the crystal.

"This ends as it always does," he shouted at me. "Order shall reign!" His next strike passed within inches of my face. My gasp caught in my throat and I leaned back to avoid the tip of the crystalline blade.

As he prepared to strike again, I ducked beneath his arms and smashed the staff against his leg. It shattered at the blow and he toppled, hitting the ground hard. I jumped back, ready to attack again.

"Enough!" Jyggalag growled. He lifted his long, crystalline fingers in a gesture of supplication. I lowered the Staff ever so slightly. "I am beaten. The Greymarch is ended."

I stepped back, grip tightening on the rough wood as the Daedric Prince got to his feet, his leg remaking itself as he did. It was hard not to shake where I stood as he towered over me.

"For millennia this drama has unfolded and each time I have conquered this land, only to be transformed back into that gibbering fool, Sheogorath," he sighed. "It was not always so. Once, I ruled this Realm, a world of perfect Order. My dominion expanded across the seas of Oblivion with each passing era. The other Princes, fearful of my power, cursed me with Madness, doomed me to live as Sheogorath, a broken soul reigning in a broken land. Once each era I was allowed my true form, conquering this world anew. And each time I did, the curse was renewed, damning me to exist as Sheogorath. Now, though, you have ended the cycle. You now hold the Mantle of Madness, and Jyggalag is free to roam the voids of Oblivion once more."

Free. Free to destroy everything chaotic in any realm. Any, including Nirn. Dyus believed that all I was and all I loved were mistakes. They would be destroyed. As much as I hated to admit it, the other Daedra were right to have trapped him in the first place. I'd seen what he'd done to the Isles, even at a disadvantage. The carnage he could unleash…

"No," I growled.

He stared down at me. "What did you say?"

"_No!_" I swung the Staff hard, sending it crashing into him. With all of my being I willed him to take back Sheogorath's Mantle and I felt something drain away from me. A power I barely understood.

"What have you _done?_" He roared. He flickered and shrank, wavering between Jyggalag and Sheogorath.

"I won't let you touch anyone else!"

The Staff burned in my hands and I let it fall, but the damage was already done. He would only remain Jyggalag for moments more. The Daedric Prince glared at me with unbound rage, his eyes flickering between cold gray and bright gold.

"You have kept my greatest love from me," he said, raising himself up to his full height. "And so, mortal, I will keep you from all that you love."

Before I could move he reached out to me, the tip of one needlelike finger touching the base of my throat. The spot where it made contact stung. I jolted back with a gasp.

"You will never die. Neither old age, nor sickness, nor wound will take you. You will never know peace. You will never again see the ones you loved."

He lifted his hand, now human in appearance, and I was pulled backward through darkness.


	14. Epilogue: Eternity

Just as quickly as it had begun, the world stopped spinning. I opened my eyes to find myself kneeling in the mouth of the portal leading to the Shivering Isles. But it was dark, empty, silent. The Gate was gone. I was back in Cyrodiil again. Alone.

"No," I gasped, desperately running my hands over the walls around me. There had to be a way back. Jyggalag, Sheogorath, whoever he was, still had my mother. She was still back there. I'd left her alone again. "No, no, _no!_"

My fingers clawed uselessly against the stone and I wept. I'd failed her again. She was trapped in the Isles in a never-ending nightmare she'd never wake up from. It was all supposed to be for her. Everything that I'd endured in that wretched place. The torture, the horror, the pain. I'd done it all for her. I was such a failure!

Jyggalag's parting words filled my head. I would never die. He said I would _never die_, and I had little doubt that he had the power to ensure that I wouldn't. The one promise, the one last hope I had left had been ripped from me in an instant. I would never see my father again, or Baurus, or… or…

I made a choked sound at the realization and buried my face in my hands. Tears flowed heavily through my fingers and ran in hot, wet trails down my arms. Renewed grief ripped through me with icy fingers.

My last and only chance to see Martin again, gone. Just like that.

"_I take it back!_" I cried, my voice breaking. I desperately prayed that the Daedric Prince could still hear me. "I take it all back! Just please, _please _don't do this to me! Anything but this! Anything…"

My pleas were met with nothing but deafening silence. I sobbed harder. My forehead touched the cold ground as I curled in on myself to try to stem the pain. It felt like someone had reached inside of me and ripped everything out until I was left empty and bleeding.

I lay there for a long time, just sobbing and shaking. My tears ran out and the remnants dried up on my cheeks. Lowering my trembling hands, I pressed my palms flat against the stone and carefully pushed myself to my feet. I stepped out into the sunlight, shielding my eyes from the abrupt brightness.

Outside of the mouth of what had once been the Gate, a guard stood at the ready. Bright flashes of afternoon light glinted off steel as he pointed a sword at me. He watched me warily, as if waiting for me to attack. I stared at him.

"The Gate's closed," I said. My voice was utterly flat. His wary look was replaced by one of surprise.

In the stunned silence that followed, I passed by the guard and made my way down the hill. Each step I took away from what was left of the Gate was slow, pained, and heavy as numbness settled into my bones.

* * *

"Open your eyes, darling."

"No."

I felt Martin's arms tighten around me and I struggled against him. Not again. Not again…

"Please, Mara," he said soothingly. "It's all right."

I pushed hard against his chest with my hands as I tried to escape, feeling tears welling up from behind my tightly shut eyelids. "I won't do this. _Stop tormenting me!_"

"Mara–"

"You're not real!"

"I'm here, love. Truly. Just open your eyes."

My chest heaved as I tried to bite back my angry sobs. I did open my eyes. Slowly, hating myself for my weakness. I blinked. There was nothing but a cold and empty bed in a cold and empty house in a cold and empty world. My shaking hands clenched into fists against the covers and my nails dug painfully into my palms. My eyes squeezed shut, but failed to hold back my tears of anguish. I would never, _never _see him again. Not in that world, nor in the next. Martin was lost to me forever.

I screamed until my throat was raw.

* * *

**A/N: Again, guys, thanks so much for sticking around. Seeing that you liked this was what kept me going through a second book.**

**I have a oneshot planned following this, so be sure to keep a lookout for it.**


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